


In Which Dean Winchester Agrees Wholeheartedly With Kylie Jenner

by blueoleandar93



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Boy Melodrama, Bunker Fic, Coda, Coming Out, Crack Fic, Depression, Episode: s11e03 The Bad Seed, M/M, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, Rowena's Attack Dog Spell, Sexuality Crisis, Slight Alcoholism, a couple of man tears, because im a little high right now honestly, because its not supernatural without it, but its not who you think, cuddling inside of a devil's trap, especially in the kitchen, i honestly dont know if this is a crack fic or not but im going to tag it, identity crisis, if you have siblings you know what i mean, its just pot okay chill out, like almost too many, many pop culture references, sam and dean being brotherly, sam being a typical little brother, sexy castiel being sexy when its really not the best time for him to be sexy, so here be spoilers bih
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:03:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10067600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueoleandar93/pseuds/blueoleandar93
Summary: Much like the reality star/teen lipstick mogul, Dean Winchester has dubbed 2016 as the "Year of Realizing Stuff".  This year he realized that manipulating Sam into a somewhat reasonable haircut was possible if he mentioned the Gilmore Girls reboot enough. He also realized sushi can’t stay in the fridge for more than a day, putting his phone on airplane mode is like putting it in the freezer, milkshakes with booze in them should be drank slowly, Castiel is sexually aware of him, Japanese cartoons are better with the subtitles on instead of dubbed, a bad pie actually exists and it was made in South Carolina two months ago, and gargling with stale beer does not count as using mouthwash. A lot of that was important to his daily life but most of it wasn’t relevant right now...





	1. In Which Castiel's Excitement Ruins Sam's Lunch

**Author's Note:**

> Even though this fic is set in 2016 just to make the Kylie joke work, the actual episode The Bad Seed aired in the tail end of 2015. But, I'm a fanfic writer who doesn't take herself seriously, so honestly who gives a crap. I'm writing this note before even posting the fic because I know someone's going to bring it up, and I'm beating them to the punch. I know about the continuity error, and I don't care.

Much like Kylie Jenner, Dean Winchester has also dubbed 2016 as the year of “realizing stuff”. This year he realized that manipulating Sam into a somewhat reasonable haircut was possible if he mentioned the Gilmore Girls reboot enough. He also realized sushi can’t stay in the fridge for more than a day, putting his phone on airplane mode is like putting it in the freezer, milkshakes with booze in them should be drank slowly, Castiel is sexually aware of him, Japanese cartoons are better with the subtitles on instead of dubbed, a bad pie actually exists and it was made in South Carolina two months ago, and gargling with stale beer does not count as using mouthwash. A lot of that was important to his daily life but most of it wasn’t relevant right now.

Something weird happened somewhere in late October. Amara was scampering around in a toddler suit and Castiel had just been cured from Rowena’s heinous attack dog spell. The angel considered himself fine, but Dean ordered him to lay down and “chill for a bit” to make sure he was both physically and mentally up to par before running after the Darkness beside them. Dean’s bruises from that awkward moment where Attack Dog!Castiel punched the shit out of him were a day or two old, so his face was purpling and swollen and so not cute. He was shaving in the bathroom mirror and Castiel had trudged up to him in his rumpled white Oxford, asking him what the bunker’s wifi password was because he apparently needed it to find out what happens to Piper Chapman. 

Dean had some shaving cream on the side of his lips and as he shaved it away, he watched in the mirror as Castiel’s eyes drifted down to his mouth mid sentence. The angel stared for a bit, blinking slowly and clenching his jaw, turning his head as if he’d seen something blasphemous. Dean told him the wifi network was “Batcave” and the password was “SamIsUglyAndHeSmellsLikeFarts67” and Castiel glanced back at his mouth as he spoke, growing nervous and irritable. 

When his eyes met Dean’s confused green ones, Castiel gulped audibly and asked if Dean would repeat the password. Dean did so as he disregarded his friend’s actions as “regulation Cas weirdness”, and started to shave his upper lip. He caught in the mirror Castiel’s Adam’s apple lurching in his throat and he saw what he could swear was a blush creeping up the neck of the angel’s wrinkled collar. 

Taking a wild leap of instinctual faith, Dean quickly glanced down at Castiel’s pants and back up at his face to keep shaving as sneaky and smoothly as possible. You know, just to be sure. And, lo and behold. That celestial sack of rebelliousness was  _ turned on _ watching Dean shave. I mean he wasn’t  _ crazy  _ turned on. There wasn’t a huge difference to his clothes -- he only had like a quarter chub max -- but it was there. Castiel was aroused. And he was still staring at Dean’s lips. 

Curious eyes trained on the angel’s minutely odd behavior in the mirror, Dean shaved under his chin, tilting his head up to draw attention to his long neck and biting down softly on his lower lip before glancing back downward. Castiel made a hurried excuse and left. With his flag definitely raised half mast. 

Dean put down the razor. 

This was the moment he realized it: Castiel was into him. 

Christ, it all made sense. 

Look at the signs! 

He rebelled against Heaven for Dean several times after millennia of staying quiet. He died for Dean over and over. He put his life on the line. He killed his brothers. Because Dean  _ needed him to _ . He told Dean in the middle of a celestial war (one Castiel himself had started to overthrow the sole ruler of Heaven) that he would rather be by his side. He took on Sam’s madness to atone  _ for what he’d done to Dean  _ after laying a bloody siege to both Heaven and Earth. He stayed ahead of Dean in Purgatory for months fighting monsters to keep him safe. He got into hunting because he thought that if Dean does it, it must be righteous and good. When the angels all fell from Heaven the first thing he did was contact Dean and he went hungry, cold, and homeless just to do so. On the verge of death with stolen grace poisoning his body, he made sure he could help Sam bring Dean back from his demonic stint. He subjected to world he claimed to love so much to the Darkness just to remove the Mark from Dean and have him be whole again. 

He hears and remembers Dean’s prayers. He heals his wounds. He follows him everywhere. 

He  _ smiles  _ around Dean. And, he’s not romantic, but he’s dutiful because that’s how he shows affection. To all of Heaven, Castiel is a rebellious little pain in the ass, but to Dean’s every wish, it’s “Yes, Dean. Of course, Dean. Whatever you ask. I’ll drop everything.” Just a few days ago Dean told Castiel, a Chrysler Building sized seraph who personally flew down into the pit and dragged his burnt soul back from the fiery clutches of Hades, to “lay down and chill for a bit”... and he  _ did _ . He listened to Dean and did exactly what he asked even though he’s this big, terrifying beast that literally gives no fucks about anything or anyone else. 

And, he just got a boner. Looking at Dean’s mouth. Holy shit.  _ Holy shit _ . Castiel actually, seriously, legitimately  _ wants to tap that _ . 

Wow. That’s a lot to process. 

Dean stared in the mirror at himself, glancing down at his body. Castiel desires it. Sexually. And romantically too considering how long he’s stuck around, I mean the poor guy has got to be crazy to deal with the shit Dean’s put him through. Does that mean Castiel has a crush on him? Do angels have crushes? Does Castiel want to date him? Or does he just want to snuggle? Or does he want Dean to engage in some weird angel mating ritual with him? Does he want marriage? Does he want actual commitment? No. Of course not. Why would he? Castiel doesn’t feel…  _ love _ ? Does he? Dean’s never seen it before. But, then again between all the demons and evil and bullet dodging, who really has time to talk about stuff like this?

He still considers Castiel a friend --  _ a brother  _ even -- but now he wonders if Castiel was just being so nice to him all this time because he has some sort of pervy hidden agenda. 

Dean almost laughed. 

That’s ridiculous. 

Dean has done some wild shit for booty in his day, but he wouldn’t unleash Darkness on the world for it. That’s a bit much. Unless…

Oh, God. Castiel is _ in love _ with him. 

Like love, love.

Full on, soul encasing, mind numbing, heart pumping, palm sweating, chest fluttering,  _ hold my hand, Jack, I’ll never let go _ love.

Dean doesn’t know how he feels about this. I mean, for some reason, it’s not  _ gross _ . Not hard to imagine, placating the guy with some advanced friendship if he has to to keep him around more. Maybe some extra long hugs, suggestive winks, an ass slap every now and then. He’d even cuddle for a little if asked. Castiel is a nice enough feller. Thoughtful. Badass. Funny, even though he doesn’t mean to be. Easy on the peepers, definitely. He’s got that deep voice and the sex hair and the rough stubble and those shoulders that hunch in a cute way and his cheekbones are so sharp, they look like they’re going to jut out of his damned skin. And he’s got those insanely bright blue eyes. God, Dean’s always been a sucker for blue eyes. But, then again… it’s  _ Cas _ , his best friend. His best… friend. So it would be weird, right? If he got romantic with his best friend who has a big gay crush on him so that he doesn’t leave?

Dean blinked as shaving cream dripped off of his face into the sink. 

Fuck. This is crazy.

His  _ best friend _ has a crush on him. 

What the Hell? And here he thought his life had reached the _tipping point_  of crazy. That’s going to make things awkward, isn’t it? What is Dean supposed do now? How does he act around Cas? What does he say?

Suddenly, Castiel’s head poked back into the doorway and he asked worriedly with a beet red face, “The Netflix wants to know if I want to ‘make my own profile’. It also asked me who was watching, but I’m not listed as an option. Is it sentient? What should I tell it? Can I lie, or will it sense that?”

“I don’t know, baby, just click on Sam’s little orange star and leave it alone.” Dean said impatiently, lifting the razor to his face, trying to make it look like he didn’t have a small existential crisis in the few moments since Castiel had left him there.

Castiel took a deep breath and sighed shakily, “But, you have a profile too. Why should I use Sam’s?”

Dean hissed as he shaved under his jaw, “I don’t know! I don’t care! Use mine, use his! It’s the same crap. Now, go and let me finish this.”

Castiel blinked his eyes, still red rimmed from the curse’s side effects as he forced the words out, “No need to be short with me, Dean. I’m just trying to figure out how this works.”

Dean sighed, rinsing off the razor before moving to work on his left cheek, “I say what I want, how I want, when I want. You don’t like it, run to Sammy. I’m sure he’ll hold your hand and tell you you’re special if that’s what you really want to hear. Now, out.” Castiel began to smile and Dean caught it in the mirror, “What?”

“Nothing.” Castiel blushed harder and disappeared into the hallway and Dean closed his eyes, leaning on the sink, trying to get his heart rate back down. Castiel blushed. Was he trying to flirt? Does Castiel flirt? Has he been flirting with Dean for years? Has Dean been answering his flirtations? Does Castiel think Dean wants him back? And--

Oh.

Oh, shit.

He just called Castiel ‘baby’.

Dean didn’t mean to, honest. It just slipped out. He could have sworn in the moment, he said ‘buddy’, but now that he looks back… oh, no. Sam. He needs Sam for this. The kid went to Stanford. That degree’s gotta be good for something. 

He shaved as quickly as he could, watching for uneven spots just in case for the first time in years, Dean gives himself untamed stubble. As he finished up, he washed his face again and stared into the mirror. Yeah. He’ll admit it, he’s pretty hot. But, he’s not  _ Fall from Heaven _ hot… is he? 

He threw on some aftershave and padded down the hallway as quickly as he could in socks. Passing Sam’s bedroom, he heard Cas mutter a confused, “Dean?” and ignored it. Nope. He can’t handle that right now. Definitely not. Dean let out a frustrated groan, heading straight for the library. There, Sam sat with a book wide open on the table. He was reading it distractedly with a large vegetarian hoagie in one hand, and tucking his stupid long hair out of his face with the other as he took a bite. Dean wrinkled his nose at his brother and grabbed him by the back of his flannel, yanking him to his feet and letting his chair clatter to the ground. Sam yelped and complained, but Dean said nothing, pulling him through the hallway as he struggled to follow his brother backwards up the winding staircase and out of the bunker.

As Dean shoved the door closed behind him, he whispered out with wide eyes, “Sammy, we got a problem.”

Sam went into hero mode, back straightening and going to his boot, crumbs and a stray bit of basil falling from his face as he pulled the gun out, “What kind of problem?”

Dean waved his gun off, “No, not that kind of problem.”

Sam’s bitchface slowly began to form, “Well, did it warrant me being dragged from my lunch?”

“Yes, alright?! Cas has supersonic hearing! And this needs to stay between us, got it?” Dean began to pace, letting his hands rise and fall in a panic, “I realized something. And… and it’s big, man. It’s  _ huge _ .”

Sam sighed dramatically, taking an annoyed bite of his sandwich, “You better be glad this bread is toasted to perfection, because I honestly would have shot you by now. Just for the fuck of it.”

Dean whipped his head in Sam’s direction, giving him a rabid stare, “Dude! Listen to me! I’m at a Code Purple right now.”

Sam asked as he chewed with bored blinks, “Is anyone’s life in danger?”

Dean shook his head as he continued to pace.

Sam took another bite of his sandwich, “Is the safety of the planet being challenged in any way?”

Dean kicked a pebble and grunted, “No.”

Sam licked a stray piece of lettuce into his mouth, “Why can’t Cas hear this? Does this Code Purple have something to do with him?”

Dean nodded enthusiastically, somehow beyond words.

Sam glanced up at the sky casually as a plane flew over head, blinking at the brightness of the sun as he shifted his weight to his other side, “Is he okay? Is the curse back? Is he on a rampage or something?”

Dean shook his head, staring darkly into Sam’s face as he stopped pacing in the dirt and grew mannequin still.

Sam slowed his chewing, “Man, you’re giving me crazy eyes. What’s up?”

“He’s gay, Sam!” Dean glared at Sam, pinching at the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he repeated, “...he’s  _ gay _ .”

Sam stared back at Dean, expressionless for a solid few moments before his face twisted up. He glanced at the dirt road and shook his head. He turned around and his back started to shake. Sam dropped his gun and it kicked up a small brown dust cloud as it clattered to the ground.

Dean grimaced, “Stop laughing. This is serious.”

Sam began to howl, leaning back and tossing his face up, hiding his chuckles with his half eaten sandwich as he turned back to Dean. Shaking his head, Sam rested his fist against the bunker door as he leaned over and cracked up, chortling and gasping out his laughter.

Dean folded his arms, “Sam! Come on! Lock it up! I need ya focused!”

Sam sputtered out a cackle and straightened himself up, wiping a tear from under his eye as he sniffed, “Oh, God. _Hoo_! Alright. How--” Sam bent over and started to chuckle soundlessly for a moment before standing up straight and schooling his expression into one of concern, “So. Dean. How did you, uh…” Sam let out a little smirk of amusement, “How did you come to this brilliant deduction? And, why does it warrant a Code Purple?”

“For Christ’s sake, man!” Dean rolled his eyes, “He was looking at me funny.”

Sam blinked, “He was  _ looking at you funny _ ? You dragged me up two flights of stairs by the back of my neck while I was eating. You scared the actual shit out of me. I thought we had ten seconds to live, given the way you acted... because Cas… looked at you funny?” Sam sighed, glancing down at his sandwich in disappointment, “We need to update our codes.”

Dean closed his eyes and gestured toward his mouth, “No, see, you don’t get it, Sam. He was looking at my lips, alright? I was shaving, and he was looking at my lips and then…” Dean whispered under his breath, “Then his downstairs gave me the silent ‘how ya doin’.”

Sam gave Dean a worried look, “What?”

“His dick got hard, dude!” Dean shouted, “He got a boner! He got an erection! He got a friggen weird angel stiffy! And, I saw it! It was there, man! It was there! Right in his stupid starched pants, winkin’ at me! All because he was  _ staring  _ at my  _ lips  _ like some sort of perv!”

Sam made a face, “Weird angel stiffy? You sure you wanna go with that?”

Dean growled, “Now is not the time, Sam!”

Sam raised his free hand in surrender, “Okay. Okay. Whatever, man. He looked at your mouth. What's the big deal? He does that all the time. I'm surprised you don't have a tee shirt that says ‘my eyes are up here’.”

Dean pointed to his crotch, “And he got--”

Sam hushed Dean up with a glare, “If you mention Cas’s penis one more time, I’m going to slap you with this sandwich.”

Dean commented, “If it doesn’t have meat in it, it’s not a sandwich.”

“It is too a sandwi--” Sam replied as he noticed Dean start to defend his statement, “Dean, I swear. I will drop you right on your tiny ass if you say one more word about my food.”

Dean made a loud sound of complaint and folded his arms hard against his chest, leaning back on his heels, “What am I going to do, man? He’s my best friend. Alright? He’s an angel. And we’ve been so cool for so long and… he’s into me. I mean, Sam… he wants my sweet lovin’, and… I don’t know if I can do that for him.”

Sam scoffed and took a bite out of his hoagie, “Yeah, because you’re so straight.”

“Oh, come on, man. I mean, Jesus.” Dean groans, tossing his hands up in the air, “A drunk guy gets caught noticing a dude’s endowment in a public bathroom  _ one time _ and  _ all of a sudden _ \--”

Sam cut him off, mouth full of asiago covered avocado, “You had half a beer and you were legit on your knees blowing him in the handicapped stall, man. And what do you mean ‘one time’? Are we in a magical universe where one means fifteen? Because, if so, yeah. You might be onto something.”

Dean hissed, “It’s not gay when I do it.”

Sam replied as he took another casual bite, “You’re right, it’s not. It’s bisexual.”

“I am not fucking b....” Dean took a long breath, “ _ Women _ are bisexual.  _ Men  _ are decisive and… and bored and… fall off the wagon sometimes.”

Sam gave Dean a flat look. He wasn’t buying it.

Dean blurted out, “I like girls, okay, Sam.”

Sam took a bite of his sandwich, “Yeah, I know. That’s where the other part of your sexuality comes in. Bi means two, jackass.”

Dean growled, “For the millionth time, man. I’m straight. I am. It’s just sometimes, a guy comes around and… and he has a nice voice and kind eyes and a firm ass and on occasion, a mid western accent. And, you gotta just… you know?”

Sam asked as he chewed with a bored expression, “What? Find out what his tongue taste like? Because I’m sure you got that part covered sevenfold.”

Dean blinked, “Could you not be a little bitch for like five minutes? Would it kill ya?”

Sam shrugged, “Honestly, it might.”

Dean complained, “I’ve fucking had it with you just -- help me here.”

“Okay.” Sam said quietly, seeing the honest confusion and worry in his brother’s eyes, “But you’re making dinner tonight. And it’s going to be health conscious with at least one vegetable.”

Dean shook his head and sighed, “Why did I sell my soul for you? I keep forgetting.”

Sam smiled as he swallowed a bite of hoagie, “Because of rare moments like these when you need my emotional support. Dean. Listen. I’m about to drop some knowledge on you, okay? You ready?”

Dean replied with a firm nod, “Yeah. Lay it on me.”

Sam answered, “Dean, Cas is in love with you. I mean, really, really in love. That’s been obvious since he busted you out of Hell, man. His halo has always been bent towards you. He would follow you to the ends of the Earth. He actually has. Like twice already. And it’s not like he doesn’t have better things to do. He’s a friggen angel. But every day he’s down here on our planet -- on American soil, no less -- he chooses to be; when all the other angels can’t get back to Heaven fast enough. Why do you think that is, Dean? Why do you think he’s stuck around this long and stayed on our tails? Why do you think we've maintained such a strong relationship with an immortal celestial being? It sure as heck ain’t because of me. I don't know why, either, because I am way sexier than you. I mean, if he's gotta have the hots for a human, I'm it.”

Dean passed Sam a cold stare, “Oh, really?”

Sam nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich, “Oh, yeah, dude. Come on. The hair, the jawline, the body -- it's like five gay dudes made me in a lab. Cas should be  _ drooling _ over me, but since I'm straight, you're like the second best option or something. I don't know.”

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, ew. Third of all, Cas literally Fell for  _ me _ , the Righteous Man. Like chillin in heaven, wing clipping, descending from the skies, crashing, ouch, on the ground. For me. Because when we met, I was manly and badass and cool and I stood up to his family. Whereas you just passively took their prophecies like a bored cheerleader on prom night.” Dean gestured to his face with flailing arms, “Cas may be an antisocial weirdo and a straight up idiot sometimes, but he’s got eyes. And they work. Which is why he chose me, and not you. Plus, you smell like farts.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “You are so into him.”

Dean hissed, “Gross!"

Sam took another bored bite, "Then why are you defending his epic love for you?"

Dean grumbled, "I’m not saying I like him ogling me, man, or that I'm even comfortable with it. I’m just saying… I know why he wants this D. He spends a lot of time with us, and  _ you  _ are no competition, Rapunzel. Get a haircut once and awhile, and maybe he’ll start sweating you since you’re so jealous of my angel admirer.”

Sam started to smirk, “Talk smack about my hair as much as you want. I can’t tell you how many girls like tangling their fingers in this while I’m--”

Dean made a face, “ _ I’m _ gonna barf.”

Sam smirked and gestured at the sandwich with his tongue slightly above the bread as he licked it suggestively.

Dean pretended to retch, “Ugh! Stop!”

Sam finished, “Dean, look. Main point: Cas likes you for whatever reason, so you’d better go snatch him up before someone else does, because he is a damn  _ catch _ . He’s super strong, he’s super smart, he smites things with his hands, he's helpful, and nice, and responsible, and caring, and could probably last like six hours in bed. He's objectively the perfect boyfriend.”

Dean started to windmill his arms, aiming at Sam’s sandwich, trying to knock it to the ground, “Well, why don't _you_ date him, because he’s my best friend and you’re gross for suggesting that.”

Sam moved his sandwich out of Dean’s way, “Yeah, sure. Speaking of gross, I heard you in the car last week when you fell asleep on our trip back from Kentucky.” Sam started to chuckle as he teased his brother and clutched his pearls in mockery, “You were like ‘ooh, Cas, oh yeah, do me harder with your big angel rod, just don’t smudge my eyeliner when you finish on my face--”

Dean glared, “I’m going to give you a two second head start before I beat the shit out of you...”

“Worth it!” Sam yelled as he wrenched open the bunker door and raced inside away from his brother before he could swing at him with actual purpose. He knows Dean makes up for their height difference with the power of a punch. Sam may be taller and more athletic, but Dean has a level of crazy on his hands that Sam could never get a hold of even if he tried. The guy survived months in both Hell and Purgatory, he’s a loose canon. He doesn’t care about reason and he damn sure doesn’t give a shit if he lives or dies. And that’s what gives him the upper hand. Dean would fight the rain if it truly pissed him off. And yeah he would lose, but he'd go down swinging. He's knocked Sam’s block off enough for him to know that running is a wise choice. At least Dean was kind enough to let him know it was coming. 

Dean shoved his fists into his pockets and took a deep breath, thinking over what Sam had said to him, sans the borderline insulting brotherly jibes. Maybe Cas is truly into him and him alone. Maybe he doesn't want anyone in Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Maybe he never has. And here comes big daddy Dean, and the angel Falls hard. For him. And no one else. 

Dean let out a small smirk as his ego grew a bit. An angel that has never loved before, loves him. 

And not just any angel. Castiel. The rebel. The powerful. The feared. Heaven’s very own Mr. Congeniality, voted most likely to start an apocalypse, known for his uncanny ability to prioritize humanity with every fiber of his celestial being. 

Castiel. 

For one so large, he tends to be gentle -- kind hearted and tender and loyal to a fault. And he somehow holds all of Dean’s core values when his fine feathered family could give 4/16ths of a fuck about him and what he stands for. Plus, he’s got crazy angel powers, and that is beyond cool. And one time when they were mid fight like four years ago, Castiel grabbed this demon off of Dean, flung it halfway across the room, flew into its face, and slammed its head into a wall while smiting it and Dean got an adrenaline stiffy for a second. But, maybe it wasn’t an adrenaline stiffy. Maybe it was a  _ Cas stiffy _ . Maybe his body wasn’t responding to the rush of endorphins from all the excitement. Maybe it was because Castiel saved him and kicked that demon’s ass and killed it with his fist and it was totally, completely, irrevocably, in every single way the hottest fucking thing Dean had ever seen. 

No. That’s crazy. 

Dean’s never thought about Castiel like that before. 

Well…

That's not true. Sometimes when they're in the car together, and Castiel is sitting beside him silently radiating warmth and power, Dean kind of wonders what he would feel like. What Castiel would sound like. What he would say. What he would do if Dean pulls over into the side of the road, cut the ignition, climbed into his lap, and just made out with him. Would he just go with it blindly? Would he do that little confused puppy head tilt thing and ask what was going on? Or would he simply say “no, thank you”. Chances were the third. Dean remembers laughing to himself under his breath as they drove, glancing at him in the rear view mirror. How funny would his face be? Shit, Dean knew he would probably be able to get away with doing it too. No consequences. It would be a good prank one day, he'd thought. Ah, it's a classic. You know that one? The whole “surprise the angel” bit? Oh, it's a great one. It’d kill. 

What doesn't help is Dean had thought of doing that prank countless times over the last two… three… seven or so years. Okay, maybe he'd been thinking about it since that one time in ‘08 when Castiel showed up in one of Dean’s dreams to give him a verbal ass whooping. Dean shudders to admit that he wanted to grab him by his stern little neck and fuck his face against the fridge; see how much sanctimonious bravado bullshit he can throw with his mouth full. But it wouldn’t mean anything, you know? He’d do it just to shut him up, and if Cas decided to throw in a little tongue action, it would be one hell of a game changer. And, if Castiel  _ sucked _ , then… well… um… Dean pulled at his shirt collar to cool himself down. Jeez. He’s gotta pull it together. I mean, this isn’t normal for him. Okay? It’s not like Dean waits day in and day out for the chance to get a blowjob from Castiel. Not that he would complain about it or stop him in any way if Castiel accidentally tripped, fell, and went down on him one day.

Ugh, this is crazy. This is Castiel he’s thinking about.  _ Castiel _ . What the heck?

Things have changed between them. Castiel went from the fearsome creature that rose Dean from the dead… to the guy who just found out what Netflix was. Sometimes, Dean doesn’t know where they stand when he thinks about their rocky history. Sometimes, Dean takes one look at Castiel and knows in his soul that there is no repaying all that he’s done -- all that he’s sacrificed -- for him. All the times he’s messed up mean nothing to Dean. That’s not what he sees when he sees Castiel. He sees a warrior, a superhero, a total dork, and the most hilarious being in Creation. He knows Castiel has made mistakes, but he made them because he’s so chaotically  _ good  _ from his burnt wings to his scuffed old dress shoes. He’s just so sweet. He doesn’t mean the pain he causes. He just wants the best for humanity. 

...actually, given the most recent events of releasing the Darkness, Dean’s unsure Castiel cares as much about the rest of the world as he cares about Dean. And that puts a little quiver in Dean’s heart.

It makes Dean wonder… maybe he’s into Castiel too. 

Maybe he thought about it before. Maybe he wanted to hold Castiel’s hand one day just to see what it felt like. Maybe he wanted to rest his head on his broad shoulders when he wanted comfort. Maybe he wanted to steal Sam’s TV, hook it up in his room, lay down next to Castiel, watch whatever the hell it was he was binging, and spoon a little. Just to see what it felt like to have him in his arms. 

Would it feel right? Dean wouldn’t know. He’s never dated a man before. He’s never really wanted to, not since high school. Screwing dudes, yeah. Sure. He does that all the time. But, dating one? Jeez, how would that even work? Who pays for dinner? Who cooks and cleans? Who…. this is stupid. Dean always pays for dinner. Castiel doesn’t have any money that Dean didn’t give to him anyway, so even if Castiel payed… Dean would still be paying. Dean cooks and cleans too. But, that’s because the bunker is his place. Not Castiel’s. But, one day. Maybe. It could be. 

But, he knows in his bones that love is more than gender roles.

He’ll ask Castiel to stop ghosting the halls at night like a creep and pick a bedroom. Even if he doesn’t sleep, he can just chill there until Sam and Dean wake up. Dean smirked imagining how funny Castiel would look sitting on a bed by himself just waiting for hours, not a single chink in his armor. 

Dean would want to sit next to him, but he wouldn’t be able to. 

It would be late. 

He would be asleep. 

But, even asleep, Dean wants to sit next to him. 

Maybe he’d dream about it. 

They’d have millions of conversations. They’d touch just enough that it wouldn’t be weird. Dean would wonder what his lips taste like. Then, he’d look away and pretend he didn’t. Because they’re friends. And friends don’t do that.  Friends don’t make out, right? Friends don’t slowly take off each other’s trenchcoats. Friends don’t shove each other down on beds. Friends don’t map out every inch of hard, tanned skin with their hands, you know, just to finally  _ feel  _ it all. Friends don’t suck each other off for the sake of knowing what their spend would taste like. Friends don’t want to know if they can make blue eyes roll back. Friends don’t want to see what dark hair would look like mussed up on a memory foam mattress. Friends don’t want to hear gravelly voices stretch into a pleasure moan. Friends don’t want to bite stubbled necks and jawlines to see if they’d leave a mark, or if their skin will heal as soon as the hickey is made. Friends don’t have “I love you” stuck to the tips of their tongues every time they see each other. Do they? 

Damn if he knows. 


	2. In Which Dean's Crisis Levels Rise

Dinner was weird.

But, pre-dinner was weirder. You know that moment, when you’re about to spend a bunch of time making something, but want to set the mood with some of your favorite jams and can’t find your phone for shit. Dean was feeling that heavy. So, he made his way to his room in an attempt to find it, and still couldn’t. He tossed his bedsheets aside, moved all of his pillows, checked his drawers and pockets and everything. Still couldn’t find it. So, he headed to Sam’s room to ask him to call it a couple of times so that the dulcet tones of his Led Zeppelin ringtone can lead him to it.

He stomped over to Sam’s room, mind halfway on the frozen seafood he had thawing in the sink and opened the door after a swift knock. His eyes met with something so unexpected, he felt his breath catch in his throat in that sick quivery feeling he gets before he throws up.

There Castiel lay on Sam’s bed in nothing but a pair of fresh white boxers, breathing heavily as he shook with tears. In panic mode, Dean pushed his way into the room and sat on the bed, pulling Castiel’s boneless body up and hugging him. Castiel clutched onto Dean’s back, body shaking as he wept into Dean’s shoulder.

Dean asked quickly, “Oh, jeez, man. What’s up? What happened? Are you okay?”

“The… I…” Castiel sniffed out, “I can’t... control my emotions anymore… with… with the spell… I felt anger… a powerful… vis-visceral anger… and now that it’s gone… the aftershocks… are giv-giving me intense… sensitive moo-mood swings and… Big Boo’s girlfriend died…”

Dean glanced backwards to the television to see it was paused on an emotional scene and his face fell flat, “You’re crying in your underwear over a TV show?”

“My clothes felt suffocating.” Castiel groaned as he buried his face in Dean’s neck, drenching his tee shirt in tears, “This Netflix so compelling… and sad… I’ve felt sadness before… but never like this… do… do you ever feel this sad?”

Dean shrugged as he patted his friend’s bare back, “Sometimes, yeah.”

Castiel’s shoulders quaked, “No! This is horrible!”

Dean asked into Castiel's bare shoulder, "Holy shit, dude, have you ever _cried_ before?"

Castiel sighed, "Only a t-tear or two. Never like this. I've never been this-this..." his words trailed off into a body quaking sob.

Dean asked worriedly as his friend sobbed, “So... okay. Let me gather this. You have no powers..."

Castiel shook his head, "I'm c-connected to my grace, but the spell -- it... it soaked up a lot of my gr-grace to k-keep me alive. And, it channeled... my v-vessel's ability to grasp human emotion into r-rage. Now that it's g-gone, my... connection to my grace is w-weakened and my vessel's... emotional state c-compromised by the spell. N-now, my emotions... don't know where to go or what to d-do, so since I felt such... anger for a p-prolonged period of time, my grace is... supplementing that by giving me giant doses of any emotion I feel. L-leaving me cr-crippled at the helms... of-of my sadness right now."

Dean took a long breath and spoke up, "Wow. How long have you been feeling your feelings, man?”

“Two days.” Castiel gasped out, “I laughed… so hard yester-yesterday… that I bruised a… rib. And then… I got frustrated about something… so there’s… a broken lamp under the kitchen table… I’m sorry…”

Dean raised his eyebrow, remembering that he had to sweep this morning because of all the dust on the floor, but he didn’t see a lamp, “You sure? There wasn't anything there today.”

“I wrote swear words on it and set it on fire.” Castiel confessed, “And… later, I… I got scared of the Darkness finding me here… so I hid in a cabinet in the dungeon for three hours until it passed…”

Dean blinked, “Fuck, dude.”

“This morning… I got embarrassed… and my whole body was so warm… and my chest felt tight… like my heart was going to cease beating… and then, I felt love… I’ve felt love before, but… not like this… nothing like this...” Castiel sighed, leaning back from Dean’s hug to wipe at his eyes. He sat against the headboard and breathed hard, tanned chest reddened and blue eyes large, lashes wet and impossibly long, “And my body did something it hasn’t done in the longest time… I feel so out of control.”

Dean sighed, leaning over to pat his knee, “Oh, Cas. Why didn’t you say something? You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

Castiel sighed gently, wiping his eyes, “I know. But, what if I get angry and… and hurt you… or what if I scare you… or what if... what if you think I'm weak and you send me away like you did the last time my powers were down…”

Dean glanced down at his hands and felt such regret, shaking his head as he breathed out, “No, man. I wouldn't do that to you again. Shit, I didn't even want to have done that to you in the first place. And, for you to think I don't want you around because you're powerless... I can’t apologize enough--”

Castiel raised his palm, “Letting me go helped save Sam, and that’s worth it’s weight in gold. I would do it again. I would have taken it easier back then if you’d told me what was going on instead of trying to shoulder it all yourself.”

Dean added, “But, that doesn’t excuse--”

Castiel replied, “I’m not angry with you for it. I don’t think I’ve ever been angry with you. I’ve been disappointed. I’ve been wrought with confusion. I’ve been hurt. But, never angry. Not with you.”

Dean smirked, “I’ve been told I have a face that’s impossible to stay mad at.”

Castiel let out an answering shrug, “Those delicate features of yours definitely don't make it easy.”

Dean smiled gently, “Hey.”

Castiel said simply, “Yes, Dean?”

Dean announced, “You’re not crying anymore.”

Castiel nodded, “I suppose I’m not.”

Dean reached up and wiped some tear streaks from Castiel's slightly puffy face. His skin was warm and damp, and his eyelashes were feather soft against Dean's thumb. Castiel looked upward to give Dean the space to clean him up, and the single lamp in the room cast a glow over his clear blue eyes. Dean's heart began to pound in his chest. He's touching Castiel's face. God, why is he touching Castiel's face? The angel paused before raising a hand to rest against Dean's, pressing the entire bottom half of his palm against Castiel's sharp, stubbled jawline. Dean's heart beat even faster. What was he doing? He yelled to himself to look anywhere but Castiel's huge innocent eyes, because if he looks Castiel in the eyes, he can't be held responsible for what he does next. So, Dean looks at the ceiling. The wall. The dresser. The lamp. The bed. They're on a bed. Holy shit, they're on a bed. Together. And, Castiel is basically naked. And, Dean's thumb is just stroking away on his face. And, Castiel is looping his fingers through Dean's. And, now they're holding hands. And, Dean's heart is thrumming out Nick Cannon's solo from Drumline.

Fuck it. Dean looked up into Castiel's eyes. They were stunning as per usual. But, they held such feeling back as if they were scared to betray his true thoughts. So, Dean looked down at Castiel's lips. They were shut and sitting in that confused frown he has stuck on his face basically all the time. It's too cute. Dean wants to kiss it off. Aww, jeez. Their faces are way closer than he remembers. He can count the flecks of grey in the hair on Castiel's unshaven upper lip. He can feel Castiel's every exhale against his skin. 

“Could you do me a solid, and call my phone?” Dean added, deciding Castiel's chest was the perfect place to cast his gaze. Upon doing that, he tried not to notice that cute freckle beside Castiel’s right nipple, “I’m trying to grill salmon and I need Ozzy for that.”

Castiel hung his head sheepishly and replied, “Of course.”

 

\-----------

 

Dean piled three plates high with food, grinning as he did so. He threw down in the kitchen today for his fam if he does say so himself. He made grilled salmon and scallops on a bed of seasoned jasmine rice pilaf, garnished with cilantro and lemon to give it that extra zest. Then, he sauteed some mixed vegetables to shut Sam up, but he drowned them in butter and Lowry’s and concocted a spicy cheese fondue side to make them fucking edible, because he will only go but so far.

Sam’s in the library researching. He stuck his head into the kitchen about a half hour ago as the smell of home cooking wafted through the bunker, and Dean chased him off with a wooden spoon. Dean also may or may not have been wearing an apron he bought at a garage sale a year ago that said _Kiss the Cook_ on it just in case Castiel comes into the kitchen in one of his moods and is overcome with lust. Dean stopped mid serving. What if Castiel starts feeling some sort of crazed sexy emotion, and he fixates on someone else? What if… what if _Sam’s_ there? Would Castiel climb that beanstalk out of pure desperation?! You know, instead of Dean's beanstalk. Sam said it himself, Dean’s looking a little old lately and he hasn’t been working out. Dean’s not completely out of shape, but he’s let himself go in some ways.

Gosh, Castiel probably doesn’t even want him. Dean heard what he said. He’s been feeling his feelings lately. They’ve been intense. He was just embarrassed… watching Dean shave… and looking at his lips… and getting a boner. Okay, fine. He can’t _Dean_ his way out of this fact, Castiel has got hunter fever, and we all know there ain’t no cure for that. What he doesn’t know is if Castiel’s sexual attraction to him is an offset of the curse’s aftershocks, or if he’s always wanted to take him on an all expense paid trip to Poundtown.

Sam poked his head back into the kitchen, “Is it ready yet?”

Dean rolled his eyes, gesturing toward the final plate in his hand, “Yes, Sam, dinner is ready.” Sam scurried into the kitchen and Dean set the fondue down on the table, holding out the wooden spoon he was using to scoop the vegetables out with menacing fervor, “Jesus, kid, slow down. You act like I never cook for you. Maintain decorum. This isn’t feeding time at the zoo. Wash your hands and sit down. Let the plate come to you.”

Sam pouted and made his way to the closest seat to him at the kitchen table, grabbing the wooden chair and plopping himself down into it, “I think I found a case in Pittsburgh. Looks like a nest of vampires.”

“Fucking Pennsylvania. I always knew it was full of blood sucking pieces of shit.” Dean passed Sam the first plate, “What did I say about washing your hands?”

Sam grabbed the fork on the table and dug into the salmon, stuffing his face with a huge bite and groaning, “Oh… oh, God. You grilled this the lean way, didn’t you?”

Dean made a face and pulled a fistfull of wet wipes packets out of his apron pocket and slapped them down on the table in front of Sam, “Yes, now stop making love to it, and clean up. We don’t need you getting MRSA.”

Sam put his fork down and ripped open a packet, wiping it all over his fingers as he swallowed.

Dean sighed, “Those books are older than Methuselah. You could be chowing down on the Black Plague, right now. Before I know it, I’m going to be in Cincinnati having to machete your ass because some punk ass North East vamp got the drop on you.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Will you please stop talking shit about Pennsylvania?”

Dean smirked back as he headed back to the counter to get the other plates, “No, they voted for Trump.”

Sam replied, “They barely did. It was so close that they were like the last state to send in their votes. Besides, he won Kansas by a landslide and we live here. I don't see you complaining.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, Kansas can suck my dick too. There ain’t no place like home.” Dean said as he grabbed the two plates and set them down on the table in front of the place settings, “Call Cas, would ya? Tell him soup’s on.”

Sam closed his eyes for a long moment and then let out one of those shit eating little brother grins as he opened his eyes and grabbed his fork again, getting a scallop scooped up with some rice.

Dean folded his arms knowingly, “What did you pray to him?”

Sam started to chuckle around his bite.

Dean glared at his brother, “Sam, so help me.”

Sam shook his head and swallowed, laughing loudly.

Dean replied, “One of these days, I’m going to get tired of your crap, man. I'm just gonna lose my shit and cut you. You’re going to wake up and be like, ‘Dean, I’m bleeding’ and I’m going to say ‘yeah, I know. Enjoy your flesh wound, you little bitch’.”

Sam started to laugh as he loaded up his fork with more rice and salmon, “I told him dinner is done, but the chef wants you to know that _he's_ on the menu as well.”

Dean sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the stove to close up the pots, “Why didn’t Cas just leave you in the pit? I ask him this every goddamned day and he doesn’t give me an answer.”

Sam took a bite of his dinner, “Shut up, jerk, you love me.”

“Okay, Sherlock Homo. Whatever you need to tell yourself to get to sleep at night.” Dean grabbed a pitcher out of the fridge and set it out on the table, taking some cups out of the cabinet above the stove and slamming them down in front of Sam before taking a seat.

Sam raised his eyebrows, “Homemade lemonade? Wow. Someone’s channeling their inner Barefoot Contessa.”

Dean ignored him and took a bite of his salmon. Hmm. Needs cayenne. He grabbed a shaker in front of him and tapped some out on top of it just in time to hear Sam cough sharply, a clattering sound erupting from his side as he set a cup down, “Not lemonade! Not. Lemonade.”

“It’s called a margarita, Beyonce.” Dean smirked as he took another bite of his salmon, grabbing a cup from the table and filling it up with the cold margarita mix.

Sam shook his head, making a sour lemon face, “How much tequila is in that thing?”

“Enough to tranquilize a bear.” Dean chuckled, “Ever mixed Patron and Cuervo with 1800 before?”

Sam groaned, “Do I look like a fucking idiot?”

Dean gasped, “Yes! You actually mixed it? What happened? Where did you wake up? I came to on a Greyhound to Disneyland last time I did that.”

Sam glared at Dean, “And, here you find yourself trying it again? What are you repressing this time? Not alcoholism, I bet.”

Dean took a long sip and coughed, making a face, “Woo! This tastes like sophomore year.”

Sam blinked, “Sophomore year? Dean. You were fifteen.”

“I know.” Dean chuckled, “Remember when we went to school in San Diego for three months? And, I gave you two hundred dollars and you didn’t see me all weekend?”

Sam added, “...yeah?”

Dean replied smoothly, “I snuck across the border with some of my classmates and partied in Mexico. Man, it was wild. I honestly remember like an hour of that weekend, all spliced together in blurry, weird ways. We went to six different clubs that I know of. Then, we went to this concert raver -- the whole thing was in Spanish, but rock transcends language, man. We had the time of our lives. Slept in a barn. Threw up on a donkey. Almost tried cocaine. Definitely streaked. Oh, I banged this stripper named Maritza too, and man. She sure was bonita, I’ll give her that. Had tits out to here." Dean stretched his arms out about a foot away from his chest. "I mean, I know you've never slept with a girl with actual boobs before, so I guess you can just close your eyes and imagine how awesome it was, man. I don't know.”

Sam sighed, shaking his head as he took a bite of the vegetable stir fry, “I keep underestimating how hard you can party.”

Dean dipped a piece of broccoli in cheese casually, “You’ve never blacked out in Mexico before?”

“Dude.” Sam said worriedly, “No.”

The sound of socks shuffling into the room turned the boys’ heads and they watched as Castiel walked broodily into the room. He was dressed this time, thank goodness, in the Oxford and slacks. As he made his way over to the chair, he sat quietly beside Sam and said simply, “I don’t eat, so I don’t know why I had to walk all the way over here and make petty conversation over food I can’t ingest. You didn't invite me last night or the night before, and as far as I know tonight isn't some sort of sacred human holiday...”

Sam gave him a confused, “Uh… Cas, are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dean replied, “Turns out the spell did have fallout. He’s not only mojo-less, he’s experiencing heightened versions of human emotions. Looks like he’s finally settled on ‘bitch’. Don’t worry, Cas. If you need help with this one, Sam’s teaching the Master Class at eight o’clock eastern time.”

Castiel glared at Dean and looked at his plate, “You’re not describing my plight correctly, which makes sense considering this very fish looks like your species did six million years ago.”

Sam gasped, “ _Damn_.”

Dean rolled his eyes and continued, “Apparently, Rowena’s spell works like some sort of focused anger fueled adrenaline rush. Now that it’s gone, Cas is feeling every emotion he didn’t feel when he was under the spell. I guess it’s evening him out, or something.”

Castiel picked up a piece of broccoli with his fingers, inspecting it, “Wrong again, as per usual. And, this vegetable is steamed. Why? Run out of creativity?”

Sam laughed, “Whoa, Dean. He sure seems to be coming for you today.”

Castiel turned to Sam, “Your hair makes you look like a horridly groomed Golden Retriever, and the darkness that’s lived inside of you from the moment we met continues to make me uneasy.”

Sam nearly dropped his fork in surprise, “....okay, wow, Cas. I didn't know that you still--”

Castiel mentioned briefly, “You thought I had nothing to say to you, so I had to fix that.”

Sam added, “I didn't mean to imply that--”

Castiel cut him off, “Bored.”

Dean blinked, “Could you say something that isn’t offensive, or would not being an asshole kill you?”

Castiel replied to Dean, “I’m not going to fake enthusiasm for other people’s happiness. I never understood the point.”

Dean asked, “So…”

Castiel answered, “So, I would rather be stabbed in the forehead with my own blade than spout meaningless drivel and self-loathing bullshit like the two of you do every five or so seconds.”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he took another sip of his margarita, “Jeez, dude. Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“You did. An hour ago. After you comforted me in Sam’s room, I wanted you to stay with me for a little bit longer, but you left early to cook. It hurt my feelings and I felt as though you didn’t care that I was suffering.” Castiel stated honestly, taking a bite out of the fish before spitting it out, “Ugh. Ugh. I can’t eat this. This salmon had a family. You do realize that, right? He watched his children die before he was killed. And this broccoli was farmed using countless hours of immigrant labor. And the cheese is the byproduct of a tortured cow. I would complain about the scallops too, but the ones on my plate were jerks, so I’ll give you a pass for grilling their corpses.”

Dean blinked, leaning over and placing his hand on top of Castiel’s, “Hey, dude. Look. Look. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I had food in the oven and I needed to keep an eye on it. Couldn’t risk a fire. This is our only home.”

There was a visible change in the way Castiel held himself. He sat up straighter, and blinked hard, closing his eyes and pressing his fingertips to the base of his throat. Then, he began to blush, refusing to meet Dean’s eye, “I… I… am sorry to have… kept you from… protecting the bunker. I didn’t mean to… put you in such a… precarious situation. Please forgive me.”

Sam guessed, “Did your mood change again?”

Castiel finally looked up at Dean and down to Dean’s palm over his knuckles before breathing out quietly, “Your hands are so much bigger than mine… and you're so strong, for a human.”

Dean snatched his hand away from Castiel’s as if it were on fire, “Uh, I, uh.”

“I’m sorry I was mean to you. I should atone for my behavior.” Castiel said softly, cheeks still colored a pale pink as he dipped his finger into the cheese fondue. When he pulled it out, it was smoking gently and covered in the yellow dairy. Castiel opened his mouth and placed his finger on his tongue, wrapping his lips around it as he stared dead into Dean’s eyes. He moaned under his breath and pulled the finger out, clean as a whistle. Then, he said simply to Dean, “You wanted me to do that. But… you haven’t forgiven me yet. I’ll try harder.”

Dean blinked and Sam crumbled into a pile of chuckles as Castiel stared Dean down. Dean muttered, “I don’t think I asked--”

Castiel glanced down, eyes making a path down Dean’s chest until he was looking through the table, right at his pants, “You didn’t have to, Dean. I know you very well. You have such an artistic way of emoting.”

Dean clenched his jaw and decided ignoring Castiel would be his best bet out of this conversation, staring down his food and taking large bites to fill his mouth before he could say something he regretted.

Castiel smirked, “You are aware that I can sense your thoughts now. You’re becoming bashful. You don’t need to. I like what I see. I always did.”

Dean chewed hard on a scallop, aggressively thinking about the Calvin and Hobbes comic compilation book he picked up yesterday. He stabbed at a piece of broccoli and shoved it into his mouth, trying his damndest not to picture Castiel naked.

“Oh… alright. I guess I can do that.” Castiel blinked and reached for the buttons on his Oxford, pulling them loose one by one. Dean’s eyes flicked up to Castiel’s clavicle as the angel continued unbuttoning, rasping out, “I may need your help tying my wrists together with my belt so that I can be properly dressed when I remind you to keep quiet in the library. Why do you want me to restrain myself for that? Have I shown signs of aggression--”

Dean cursed himself as he stared pointedly into his plate, avoiding all eye contact with Castiel’s body, “I could have sworn I buried that kink real deep.”

Sam almost choked as he stood up quickly, grabbing his plate in a rush, “Okay, so the energy in here is fucking weird. I’m going to go to my room.”

Castiel glanced up at Sam, “Alright. We won’t disturb you--oh, I’m sorry. Dean wants me to be quite vocal in French for some reason, so you might hear something, but other than that you should--oh! In _Sam’s_ bed? Are you sure?”

Sam made a disgusted face, “Dean! That’s gross!”

Dean sputtered, “ _Obviously, not while you’re in it_!”

Castiel added briefly to Sam, “Oh, no, Sam. You’re not involved in his fantasies. No need to worry. He doesn’t harbor any incestuous tendencies. Except for that one time in… Hastings, Nebraska nine years ago. You two were finishing up a case and became inebriated and… oh. You two shared a kiss to attract some women, and he…” Castiel threw up the air quotations as he finished, “‘liked it a little’.”

Sam flinched and waved his hand in Castiel’s direction, “That was one time -- how does he know about it -- did you tell him -- wait, you _liked it_?!”

“Chill, dude, you were real gentle and did a tongue thing that wasn’t terrible, okay? Don’t read into it. I didn't. Look.” Dean shrugged wildly, “He’s pulling things out of my head. I can’t control this.”

Sam pleaded, “Could you try?”

Dean replied, “You think I haven’t been running through the entire Monty Python Life of Brian script in my head for the last two minutes? He’s gone to the Dark Web of my mind. I don’t even know where he’s getting this stuff.”

Castiel placed his shirt on his chair as he stood, walking around the table to stand beside Dean before bending completely over it. He turned to place his ridiculously blue eyes in Dean’s line of sight as he stood bent over the table and asked, “I’m sorry, Daddy. I'm a bad, bad angel that needs to be punished.”

Sam scrambled out of the room, “That’s my cue to leave.”

Dean called out, “Sam! I don’t know how to make him stop!”

“I’m sorry if this is making you uncomfortable.” Castiel spoke with a gentle smile as he gazed at Dean, “You’re just so wonderful, Dean. I want to please you.”

Dean blinked, “So, you’re feeling…”

Castiel finished for him, reaching out to trace his finger along Dean’s jaw line, “Affection.”

Dean sighed, “Get off of the table, Cas.”

“Alright.” Castiel straightened up and turned to Dean, reaching a leg around to straddle Dean on his chair. Dean’s heart rate picked up, and Castiel stared into his face for a little while longer, “I'm much more comfortable here anyway.”

Dean leaned his head back away from, “Dude.”

Castiel added. “You’re the most beautiful human in creation. Helen of Troy would kill for features like these. Your eyes are like fresh blades of grass in the springtime. Your lips, pink as a rose. And, your freckles are like chocolate diamonds, adorning your delicate pores.”

Dean blushed and placed his hands on Castiel’s surprisingly thick thighs, “Cas, you gotta get up, man. And quit it with the poetry. I’m not a damn painting.”

Castiel ran his hand through Dean’s hair and started to chuckle, a strong, gravelly tone that Dean felt in his bones, “No, but your body is the most exquisite art. And, your face… it’s almost flawless.”

Dean shrugged as his red face betrayed his bashfulness, “Wow. Well. You're not so bad yourself.”

Castiel smiled, “My vessel, he hails from Russia. Very Slavic bone structure. One highly sought after by American culture in the 1940’s. I can tell you enjoy that. You like his shoulders too. And his hands. And arms. And chest. And his eyes. You really like his eyes.”

Dean mumbled, “ _Your_ eyes.”

Castiel said distantly, “They’re not mine. They belong to a dead man.”

Dean replied with a quiet hushed tone, “No, I didn’t like them when Jimmy was around. He doesn’t use his face the way you do.”

Castiel asked, “Which way do I use his face, Dean Winchester?”

Dean answered, “Well, you, uh… you’re a little awkward… and confused, and nerdy, and antisocial, but in a way that’s nice. You tilt your head and you purse your lips and your eyes get squinty, and… it’s you know...”

Castiel paused for a moment and smiled as he picked the word out of Dean’s brain, “What does ‘cute as shit’ mean?”

Dean blinked, “You’re going to have to get out of my head and off of my lap.”

Castiel spoke gently with a small smile, “You’re getting an erection. Because I’m topless and close and telling you how much I adore you. Because you pleasure yourself to this sometimes when you're feeling arousal, and it's the fantasy you try your hardest to conceal. It's okay to react to me, Dean.”

Dean glanced away from Castiel, “Not, if I can help it.”

Castiel looked down in Dean’s lap with a fond smirk as he corrected Dean, “You can’t.”

Dean closed his eyes and muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Castiel’s shoulders tensed as Dean’s cock hardened enough in his jeans to press against the soft fabric of his ever present black slacks, “Oh! There it is.” Dean pointedly looked away from Castiel, eyes trained on the table behind him. Castiel took him gently by the chin and spoke, “It’s alright if you look at me. You want to. I can feel it.”

Dean closed his eyes and refused to shift his gaze to Castiel’s bare chest, “You’re not in your right mind. I shouldn’t.”

The hunter felt the soft press of an angel’s kiss between his eyebrows, “It’s alright. You’re such a good man, Dean. But, I can hear your need. I can sense what you want. I knew. Every time you looked at my vessel with desire in your eyes. Those times we’d drive together and you’d emote such need. I constantly feel your longing for me when we’re apart and even moreso when we’re together. Countless times you nearly halted our cases to kiss me. But, you never did. I figured the love I wanted you to have for me was never there. It isn’t, is it? It’s just occasional lust you feel for me? Something that gets you off when you need to feel bad about it? No emotions, no need for companionship or sensuality, nothing else. Just sex.”

Dean leaned forward, his forehead resting at the cleft in Castiel’s stubbly chin, “It’s complicated, Cas.”

“What is complicated about this, beloved?” Castiel brought his arms up to pet the back of Dean’s hair, his jaw moving against Dean’s forehead as Dean brought his arms up to wrap around his naked back. Dean pressed his face into the warm skin between Castiel’s neck and shoulder. His heart was thrumming in his chest. Castiel’s arms were so strong. His bicep pressed against Dean’s ear like a hard, warm pressure, closing him into this moment.  His hands in Dean’s hair felt perfect. Being held by Castiel for the first time, really held, was easily becoming one of the best experiences of Dean’s life.

Something about the angel was like a damn tranquilizer. Castiel felt like loyalty and stability and warmth and home. You know, if warmth and home had biceps and neck stubble. Charlie was right those years ago when she mentioned him. Castiel was definitely dreamy. But Dean couldn’t see them in a relationship. He’s never dated a man before. He doesn’t  know how it would work. Plus, Castiel is at least two thousand years older than him. He’ll stay the same as Dean continues to age, and that will be an issue. He’s also an angel. An actual angel. What on Earth would Dean be smoking to think that Castiel would be happy in a long term relationship with a fuck up mortal like him? Some dank ass hash, that’s for sure.

Dean wanted to tell Castiel that he didn’t love him. That he didn’t feel a thing between them. That what they share is brotherhood and nothing more. But, he didn’t say a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm from Pennsylvania, so I can talk shit about Pennsylvania. Ugh, it's the worst...


	3. In Which Sam Is Interrupted For His Wisdom

Dean woke from a vivid dream with a start, shoulders and neck tense against his pillow. It was a wild one. In it, Castiel was experiencing heightened versions of emotions. The usually stoic, stone faced angel was blushing, sobbing on his shoulder, hissing out rude insults, and straddling Dean’s waist as he caressed his face with unbidden affection. Dean took several long breaths before he remembered. It wasn’t a dream. 

This all happened a matter of hours ago. 

Shortly after Castiel had tried to fulfill his every wish and surround him in the most warm and genuine of tenderness, Dean, like a complete idiot, ran. He pushed Castiel off of him and quite literally ran away from his problems. He booked it to the garage, and he drove. To Missouri. Not the psychic, the state. He swerved onto the I70 and rode it until he had to feed the tank in Columbia. It was when he stopped for gas when he realized what he’d done. There he was pumping go-go fuel into his Baby at a Gas N’ Sip, having a sudden recollection of Castiel, human and scared and pissed as hell in his cute little blue vest. Even sass ridden, Castiel still cared for Dean. 

Castiel. Castiel. Probably wracked with emotions, sobbing and unloved. Probably resting his chiseled jawline on Sam’s chest and crying into his neck, every tear that falls from his eyes for Dean. Wow, he’s an asshole. Castiel was literally handing Dean everything he wanted on a silver fucking platter complete with utensils, napkins, and a bib. And, Dean -- the little wimp -- got in his car and drove two and a half hours to get away from him. 

Even then, as he held the gas pump and watched the numbers tick by, Dean knew that no matter how complicated his feelings for Castiel were, leaving wasn’t going to fix anything. 

Then again, going home would only make it harder. Castiel was unpredictable now. His emotions were literally everywhere. He was worse than a hormonal pregnant woman. What comes out of that angel’s mouth next is honestly dealer’s choice at this point. And, that’s notably terrifying. What Dean wouldn’t give for the quiet, bookish, nerdy best friend he used to have boatloads of unresolved sexual tension with. Now, Castiel’s guard is down. Everything he feels is brought to light and magnified. His fear of abandonment, his issues with human consumption, his wariness of Sam, his fondness for Dean. Everything that makes him tick… it’s laid out on the table instead of held firmly behind his perfect teeth. 

Dean’s only just begun to question what he truly wants with him. And, now, while Castiel is in this fragile state, it’s imperative that Dean remains a bit distant. He almost crossed the line and kissed him. Right at that moment when the word “beloved” left Castiel’s soft, full lips. Castiel may have not even noticed, but that right there was a confession if Dean had ever heard one. Which loops his mind back around to  _ best friend _ and how Castiel is his  _ best friend _ and this is going to end in flames. If Dean fucks up and their romantic relationship ends, Castiel won’t just back off for a bit... he might leave for good. He might go back to Heaven to be with his brothers and sisters. He might never come back ever again. 

Dean heard the gas pump click finished and he pulled it out of Baby as he fought the tears welling up in his eyes. No. He can’t lose Castiel again. Nuh uh. Not going to happen. Kissing him isn’t worth the risk. Even if it was, consent issues are all over the place right now. Castiel is in a sensitive spot and when he evens out, he might (definitely will) flagellate himself for the things he did while he was under the influence of the curse and its fallout. 

He has to go back home. He can’t run from his problems. He must face them head on. And, by face them head on, Dean means emotionlessly helping Castiel through his mood swings until he evens out and then pretending all the stuff Castiel did or said never happened. 

When Dean got back to the bunker, Castiel was sitting on the table in the library. His shoes were off and (thankfully) his shirt was back on. He sat cross legged with his palms upturned on his knees, eyes closed and focused. Dean walked in slowly as if a wild bear were in the room, wincing at the loud clack of his boots against the linoleum floor, “...hey, Cas. Sorry I split back there--”

“Ssh!” Castiel hissed out, “I’m meditating.”

Dean asked softly, “...what are you feeling right now? Or, you know, trying not to feel.”

Castiel took a deep breath and opened his eyes, tired blue ones gazing back at Dean’s questioning green, “Humans refer to it as disappointment.”

Before Dean could say another word, Castiel had closed his eyes again and raised a hand in defiance, asking him firmly to let him be as he tries to achieve inner peace. Apparently Sam had showed him the pose. Dean didn’t question that. Sounds like the zen Buddha hippie type crap he’s into. 

He couldn’t help but feel like shit about it all. Even when heading to bed, Dean laid down on the left side, like he always does, trying not to imagine a tousle haired angel grumbling in his sleep beside him. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken Castiel’s word and left when asked. Maybe he should have thrown caution to the wind and said… well…

Even now as Dean lies awake, startled from the dreamy recollection of his day’s passing, he doesn’t have a single clue what he’d say. Would he tell Castiel that he loved him? That he had feelings for him? No, because honestly, Dean’s not sure that he does. He likes Castiel -- for sure. They get along well, and he’s so nice and dorky and powerful. And  _ hot _ . Like… hand on the stove hot. Charlie hit the nail on the head when she’d called him “helpful and dreamy”. Hell, if Dean had to pick two words to describe the celestial stud, those would be it. But, love? That’s huge. That’s… gosh. Dean doesn’t even really know what love means. 

He pulled out his phone and went to Google to see if it would throw some answers at him. 

Love (n): 1. An intense feeling of deep affection.

Dean would say that he has that for Castiel. Maybe. When he looks at Castiel he has this feeling that he just wants to smile. And ruffle his hair. And make fun of his outfit. He feels lighter somehow. But, not in a gooey kind of way. In a safe kind of way. Like Castiel has his back, and if something ever happened to him when Castiel was in the room, it would all be okay. And, Dean never feels that. Security is something he’d assumed he’d never have. But, with Castiel around, he can breathe easy and relax. He can be goofy. He can focus all of his attention on seeing if he can make Castiel do that little smirk smile. You know, the one that makes Dean’s heart do somersaults. He’s so cute when he does that. But, also devastatingly handsome at the same time. Is that affection? That clenching heart thing? Dean doesn’t know.

Fondness, tenderness, warmth, intimacy, attachment, endearment.

Dean guesses he’s fond of Castiel. He likes the guy, definitely. 

_ Tenderness _ . Hmm. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever been  _ tender  _ with him. Maybe one time when Castiel had that crying thing and Dean hugged him for the better part of five minutes. Or that other time when Castiel was laid out on the floor after the curse broke and Dean touched his face and stared into his eyes. Or that other time when Castiel was still under the spell and Dean made him tea and wrapped him up in a blanket. Shit, Dean could go on. And all of those things he’d just listed happened within the last week. 

_ Warmth _ . Has he ever been warm with Castiel? Have they ever sat down quietly and just talked? Moved in close and got personal with their words? Maybe shared a quiet embrace or two? Offered support and kinship? Yeah. More times than Dean would admit. 

_ Intimacy _ . Hold up, hold up. Isn’t intimacy another word for sex? They’ve never had sex. They’ve never even kissed before. Dean clicked the blue link highlighted under the word. Oh. It’s not sex. I mean, it could be, but… it’s defined as close familiarity or friendship. A private, cozy atmosphere. Dean’s felt that with Castiel for sure. Hell, Castiel is basically intimacy personified. Quiet and strong and safe and gentle, but in a way that soothes Dean. In a way Dean can count on.

_ Attachment _ . Dean doesn’t consider himself attached to Castiel. Not really. I mean, if someone else spent time with him like, say, Hannah. Well… that’s a bad example. Dean hated Hannah. She didn’t really do anything to him. Except for that one time she asked Castiel to kill him. But, everyone does that. Especially angels. Dean tried to picture Castiel driving in his crappy old Continental with somebody. Anybody. Smiling at them the way he smiles at Dean. Deciding to go on hunts with them. Answering their prayers. Being on the receiving end of their hugs and shoulder pats -- NO WAY. NUH UH. NEVER. GET AWAY FROM HIS ANGEL. CASTIEL IS ALL DEAN’S AND NO ONE ELSE’S. Okay, so maybe Dean’s a little attached. 

_ Endearment _ . Eh, does Dean feel endeared? Yeah, fine. He does. He gives Castiel little nicknames and treats him like a Winchester, definitely. And, Dean calls him at least three times a day when he’s not at the bunker just for updates. And, when he doesn’t pick up, Dean gets an attitude. But, he’s also not that mad because he gets to hear Castiel’s awkward little voicemail greeting which is all types of cute.  

Dean let out a long sigh, knowing full well he'd die in an instant for that winged son of a bitch. Great. He’s in love with his best friend. Like some pathetic little gay boy. Which Dean is not by the way. He’s not gay. In any way, shape, or form. Yeah, he wants to make out with Castiel, but not… it’s not… he’s not… you know? Dean’s not like that. He just fell in love with who Castiel is. Not with his equipment. Although, now he’s thinking about Castiel’s equipment, he finds himself wondering how big his equipment is. And how hard it can get. And, what it would taste like. Okay, so Dean’s a little gay. Not enough to be alarming. But, you know, just a little bit. 

There was not a single thing about men that Dean  _ loved _ . Not their stubbled faces or their broad shoulders or their deep voices or their soft Adam’s apples or their big hands or the way their butts look in jeans. None of that crap. Dean likes ladies. He does. Honest. Heck, he’s got the alphabetized porn to prove it. Not that he has to. Because he genuinely enjoys his time with them. He likes kissing their necks and playing in their hair and licking their soft bodies and reveling in their warm, sweet smell. They feel great. Their laughs sound like magic. Their lips taste like candy. And, when they look at you from across the bar with a martini in their hand, it’s like crack cocaine. 

It’s just a fact. 

Dean likes women. So, he can’t be gay. 

So what, Dean’s sucked a few dicks in his day. So what? He actually followed a guy when he invited him back to his hotel. So what? They made out, whatever. They got horizontal, subtracted the clothes, dimmed the lights, and humped each other to REO Speedwagon. Who cares? That guy may be saved in his phone as Dat Ass, and when he’s in Arizona, he shoots off a text. And, so the fuck what? He has maybe six other guys saved in his phone under Gym Hottie, Kinda Looks Like Will Smith, Sexy Stare, Vegan Ginger, Tattooed Vixen, and Hands Down the Best Blowjob You’ve Ever Gotten. Yeah, he’s slept with them all, but what difference does it make? He likes women too, and he’s a guy, so if he likes women he’s straight. 

Plus, he dates girls. He takes them out. He wines and dines them. He gets lovey dovey feelings for them, holds their soft hands, and gives them shoulder massages. He wants to make them happy, and loves doing things for them. And, yeah, he’s a snuggle slut and couldn’t be happier about it. He doesn’t want to do any of that for a guy. He never did. It’s like Little Dean loves them to pieces and Upstairs Brain Dean could care less about the cute stuff when it comes to dudes. That’s another vote for the Straight Dean Being Straight And Totally Not Gay campaign. 

But, then Cas.

The proverbial wrench in the cog. Dean can’t think of a single thing Castiel would ask of him that he wouldn’t immediately do. He’d hold Castiel’s hand. It’s warm and big and Castiel could probably drag him around like a puppet. If it were any other guy, Dean would roll his eyes and refuse. But, Castiel? Dean would take him out to dinner if he wanted. He’d stroll through the park. He’d buy him a small, adorable pet, and they would raise it together and protect it and feed it and be co-daddies of some sweet little rabbit and -- enough. That’s gross. No. Never. 

Yet, Dean’s heart is thrumming in his chest at the thought of it and why is he smiling? 

Dean grabbed the cold, vacant pillow beside him and shoved it over his face, wondering if it would be that easy to suffocate himself to death. He’s in love. With a man. Well, technically not. Castiel is a genderless angel which actually opens a whole new can of worms that Dean doesn’t think he’s ready for, and his entire life just got that much more complicated. He pulled the pillow from his face. 

He loves Castiel. Castiel loves him back. 

Should they?

No. Yes. Dean doesn’t know. 

Grumbling to himself, Dean shoved up out of his bed and stomped across his room to the door, snatching his robe off of the hook as he went. Dean shoved it on his arms and padded through the halls a couple of doors down, socks sliding quietly against the linoleum until he made it there. Without warning or question, Dean yanked the door open. What follows is clearly the product of an older brother who didn’t think. 

As he marched in, he started with a frustrated growl, “Sam. I have a probl-ehh! Gross, dude! What the hell?!”

Topless and sweating, Sam startled at the intrusion, whipping his hand out from under the sheets and grabbing them up to his neck as he yelped out, “Jesus fucking Christ, Dean! Have you ever heard of knocking?!”

A bottle of lube rolled off of the bed and onto the floor, clacking loudly as he shoved the box of tissues under the sheets to hide them. Not fast enough, Dean might add. Slapping his hands against his eyes, Dean whimpered, “This is my nightmare.”

“Why are you in here?!” Sam screeched, throwing the box of tissues at his brother, “It’s like 3am!”

Dean complained, “How are you even awake?”

Sam said quietly, “I had a Julianna Margulies dream because I marathoned The Good Wife before I went to bed.”

Dean sighed, “Why the hell were you watching The Good Wife in the first place?!”

Sam accused sharply, “Well, why the hell are you in my room at 3am, Dean?! Unsolved Mysteries.”

“Oh, don’t blame me like I’m the bad guy. You’re beating it to Julianna Margulies -- wait. You were beating it, right? Not doing butt stuff?” Dean glared at the ceiling, “I saw the lube, man. I have to ask.”

Sam yelled out, “No, I wasn’t doing butt stuff! And, even if I were, I don’t owe you an explanation! Who the fuck do you think you are, the masturbation police?”

Dean started to laugh, “Masturbation police? Do you think their whistles are shaped like dicks?”

Sam complained, “You better have the absolute best excuse for bursting into my room in the middle of the night. And, if you’re having another Big Gay Crisis, take it up with Jesus.”

Dean muttered under his breath, “It’s not a  _ ‘crisis’ _ per se.”

Sam said softly, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Dean gazed up at the ceiling, “No.”

Sam hissed out, “Look at me.”

Dean asked, “Are you still all boned up?”

“The sheer frustration I’m experiencing with you right now has probably made me flaccid for life.” Sam growled, “Now, look.”

Dean lowered his chin and looked Sam in the eyes and nowhere else, lest he be psychologically scarred again, “What?”

Sam said sternly, “Go into the library, grab him by his stupid trenchcoat, put your tongue in his mouth, and leave me the fuck alone.”

Dean replied quietly, “But, I can’t. I’m not gay.”

Sam pinched at the bridge of his nose and sighed, “Dean. You can’t be serious. You’ve sucked more dicks than Sasha Gray.”

Dean scoffed, “Impossible.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Dude. You’re bisexual. Just admit it.”

Dean shook his head, “No. That’s not real.”

Sam replied, “90% of the world thinks that monsters aren’t real. And here the fuck we find ourselves. Living in a cave underground with sigils on the walls. Dean, you like banging women and you like banging men. That’s two. Two means ‘bi’.”

Dean sassed, “That doesn’t mean I like men.”

Sam answered, “Oh, really? Because I called ‘Hands Down the Best Blowjob You’ve Ever Had’ in your phone a year ago just for kicks, and she had some serious bass in her voice. And the kicker is, I wasn’t even surprised. You’ve been ogling girls and boys since I was in the fourth grade, Dean. This isn’t some new development. You’re bisexual.”

Dean spat out quickly, “But, I’ve never wanted to have a romantic relationship with a man ever in my life. Yes, okay! I admit it. I sleep with dudes. Because they’re hot and they’re big and they’re sexy and it turns me on, but never ever had I wanted to date one. I’m trying not to be difficult with you, but I don’t  _ like  _ men, Sam!”

Sam blinked back at Dean, “Wait, so you are _actually_ having a crisis? You’re not just stubborn and you’ve genuinely been battling with this for a while?”

Dean sighed, “And Cas is making things worse because I lo… I l… you know. I have feeli…”

Sam breathed, “Holy cow, you’re in love with him and you’ve never had feelings for a guy before.”

Dean nodded quietly.

Sam added, “And, this is scaring you because you don’t know how to react or what to do in this situation.”

Dean nodded again.

Sam finished, “And, you have serious abandonment issues, especially when it comes to Cas, so you worry that if you don’t do everything the right way, he’ll leave you.”

Dean rubbed his hand over his face, “Yeah.”

Sam asked worriedly, “How long have you been wrestling with this?”

Dean said softly, “Too long. And, now that I know he loves me too, I…”

Sam finished for him, “...have the ability to break his heart.”

Dean looked down at his feet and shuffled a little bit, “I don’t want to hurt him, Sammy.”

Sam sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his (thankfully) blanket covered knees as he spoke quietly, “I think you need to trust in yourself, man. You’re not a bad guy. Really. Besides, Cas has been through none short of everything with you. He saw you broken, he saw you pissed, he saw you sloppy, hell he’s even seen you with black eyes and horns. And, where is he? In the bunker somewhere, waiting for you to wake up.”

Dean muttered, “I think he’s waiting for  _ you  _ to wake up since you’ve got the TV in your room.”

“Dean.” Sam replied, “If he was going to run away from you, he would have done it by now. He’s been burning bridges for us for, what, seven years? Probably more considering the time jumps we’ve been through. And, you know what, Dean? He stayed. Here. Not just on Earth, but in our timeline, in our country, in our lives. For something as big and old as him, being stationary isn’t something to glance over.”

Dean added, “Well, you said ‘our’. Part of that was you.”

Sam shook his head softly, frizzy hair falling around his neck, “No. It wasn’t. You heard him in the kitchen. I ‘continue to make him uneasy’. Cas likes me, sure, and I'm his friend, yeah. But, he called me an abomination once and a small part of him still believes that. We're close, but why do you think that is?”

Dean shrugged, “Because you can be cool sometimes. It’s rare and shocking, but it happens.”

“Oh, stop it, Dean. We all know Cas likes me because he likes you and I’m important to you. Why else do you think he went into the cage and pulled me out of Hell after I literally freed Lucifer and invited him to walk around in my meatsuit?”

Dean made a face, “Because he’s an idiot?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Because you were a mess without me, and he wanted to help you because you probably moped out around him after I jumped in. He was restored. He went from atomized to angel. He had a war to fight in Heaven. And, he took the time out of his busy schedule to do the hardest thing he had ever done in his billion year life, just to cheer you up. Plus, I don’t know a single soul who would stick around for two Apocalypses, a Leviathan outbreak, and a surprise Earth visit from every single member of their family. He slit his brother’s throat and stole grace from his bleeding neck just so that he could be helpful to you. He literally Fell for you. From Heaven. On three separate occasions. That’s  _ love _ , dude. At this rate you’re going, I don’t think you could fuck it up with him if you sat down and tried. I mean, the guy thinks you shit diamonds for Christ’s sake. He’s not going anywhere.”

Dean felt himself smile a bit as he asked his brother, “You think?”

“I know.” Sam smiled back, “Now, I’m going to Home Depot tomorrow and buying a lock for my bedroom door. If you can’t open it at first try, take that as a sign and move on next time, okay? Or maybe, I don’t know -- I’m just spitballing here -- knock.”

Dean complained, “You’re not the only traumatized one in here, okay? I know it was under the blankets, but I could have sworn your hands were way too close to your ass.”

Sam smirked, “Oh, yeah? Because ‘Sexy Stare’ texted you when we were in the car a couple of weeks ago, and he definitely said something about missing your ‘cute bleached hole’.”

“It’s not bleached, and you’re jealous!” Dean yelped, scurrying out of the door and slamming it shut before adding, “You little bitch.”

Sam added with a loud cackle, “Have fun calling me that after you let Cas bend you over, jerk! Here’s praying he knows how to reach around!”

Dean pointed at the closed door with determination, “Fuck. You.”

Something slid under the door and into the hallway. It was a condom. Sam was full on belly laughing at this point as he choked out, “Tell Cas his angel blade won’t cut it. You’ve got drug resistant herpes.”

Dean yelled back, “Why did I kill Death with that scythe and not you?!”

Sam answered through his laughter, “Because my puppy eyes are cute as hell.”

Dean hissed, “Oh, yeah? Well, I hope you meet Julianna Margulies and she thinks you’re fucking ugly.”


	4. In Which Dean's Morals Lie on a Unique Spectrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: drug use, depression, hints of suicidal thoughts

By the time Dean woke up the next morning, Sam was gone. Probably ran to Home Depot with bells on the second they opened. He said he’d bring breakfast back in a text message, but Dean was way too hungry. The chances Sam would make it back before Dean’s stomach lining ate itself were dangerously low.

He paused before finally getting up from bed. He’d have to face Castiel before he could get to the refrigerator, which wasn’t on Dean’s list of Top Ten Things He’s Looking Forward To today. But, alas. He’s hungry. So, the jury calls for a breakfast sentence of at least three scrambled eggs and a mug of coffee. Maybe with Kahlua in it. Fuck it. It’s been a rough week.

Before breakfast, Dean headed to the bathroom to freshen up. He took one look into the mirror after he brushed his teeth and used the toilet and realized that he didn’t want to shave. He didn’t feel like it and to be honest, he didn’t really have to. His beard grew in slow enough that it wouldn’t make much of a difference. It just has to be in check before he leaves the bunker. If he even does. Chances are, he’ll be here all day anyway. They’re behind on research on the Darkness, and unless they find a case, they really should be homebound.

So, Dean put going outside on the back burner, deciding to step into the shower instead. He grabbed some discount shower gel and a towel out of the cabinet, and cranked on the water as cold as it could get. The second he stepped in, the frigidity snapped against his chest like a whip. His eyes went from half lidded and sleepy to wide awake in milliseconds. Dean’s back straightened up and he grumbled against the icy cold water and lathered up his dark green loofah and ran it over every inch of skin he could reach, washing his sleep sweat away. He can’t walk into the kitchen all gross and smelly, what would Castiel think--

What?

Dean nearly dropped his loofah.

Why does he care what the hell Castiel thinks? He’s been gross around Castiel before. He’s gross in front of him all the time. Castiel met him in Hell covered in blood, guts, and year old dirt. A little night sweat wouldn’t bother him at all. But, why should Dean care if Castiel is bothered?

Dean hung his head. Christ. He wants to _look good_ for the damn guy. What the heck is going on? This little crush is annoying as all get out. He doesn’t feel like cleaning up and being all extra and skipping shaving because he wants to look rugged and sexy. He’s just going down the hall to cook himself breakfast in his own kitchen. No need for effort.

He spared a glance downstairs and growled that it was completely unnecessary as he reached for the razor. Just to line everything up. And keep it neat. And maybe a little shorter. Okay, a lot shorter. But, not all the way gone, that would be weird. Right? Then again…

 _Breakfast, Dean. You’re going to cook breakfast. You don’t need to shave your nethers into extinction to scramble an egg_. But, then again, what if Castiel is free of the curse’s blow back, and gets on his knees and just wants to suck Dean off during his morning coffee out of the pure kindness of his heart? That would be awesome. And, if he’s all woodsy, that’s just not fair for Castiel to have to search through the forest just to find his balls. You know, just in case he wants to give them a little lick too while he’s down there. Dean should make sucking his dick as quick and easy as possible for the little tree topper, considering Castiel probably never did it before. Oh. Oh, wow. Dean just realized he would be Castiel’s first blow job. Holy shit. Just imagine. He’d just… look up at Dean with those pretty blue eyes wide with arousal and his bulging mouthful of cock and pre cum all over his scratchy stubble and his soft dark hair all finger tousled and messy as he asks Dean innocently if he’s doing it right. _Hey, come on, penis. Cut it out. Don’t pass stuff like this up to his brain right now. You were doing so good just then and then you had to go and fuck it up. Don’t you dare stand up. Sit back down. Now. Oh, okay. Now, instead of listening, you’re thinking about how gravelly his voice would sound during. And, how he’d loosen his tie and reveal the curve of his tanned collarbone and beg you to_ \-- fuck. This is ridiculous. He’s fully erect in a freezing cold shower like some sort of mutant. Fine, whatever. Bullying his boner clearly wasn’t going to make it go away on its own. Dean gave himself two minutes to get off or else he’s going to turn the water on its highest pressure setting and hosing this arousal off of him.

He’s pretty sure he’s never jerked off with this much frustration in his entire life, bar that one time when he was thirteen and Pastor John left them with his hot jock son who insisted on taking them to the gym with him. Little Dean lasted six minutes in that weights room with him before he locked himself in the gym bathroom all afternoon. To this day, he’s still embarrassed about that, but he can’t blame himself. Tony had awoken something inside of him that day, something wild and sexy and passionate and homoerotic and -- to be honest -- slightly kinky. Dean learned a lot about himself in that public bathroom stall. He’d never wanted to be manhandled in his life, but then, at such a fragile age, Dean found himself wanting to be taken. Shoved down, ridden hard, and put up wet. He wanted to feel muscle against his chest, stubble on his neck, rough hands in his hair, a tight ass in his grasp, and another hard hot dick. Just anywhere, really. And, he never wanted that before.

Hearing all of those words his dad spoke about queer men being disgusting and horrid examples of human beings pulled Dean into assuming that he could never be queer himself. He knew wasn’t disgusting. He was just a little boy. He adored girls and they loved him back. He was the king of picking flowers and holding hands and being gentle with them. They were just so pretty. But, Dean had never felt that raw, powerful, sexual energy with them. Not at first, anyway. Come to think about it, Tony was the first person he’d ever fantasised about. His breathing grew heavy and his heart sped up and he felt this heat between his legs that he’d never felt before. All when looking another man. His dick was becoming something he didn’t have a real handle on around that age, perked up by the slightest breeze when he discovered arousal and the feeling of an orgasm, but never had he honestly wanted to be intimate with someone before Tony. Then, of course, his seventh grade math teacher Miss. Lexi (AKA Miss Sexy) changed all of that. But, that’s a whole long, confusing story Dean doesn’t want to get into.

He glared at the tiles the whole time and refused to enjoy himself. This is just a thing he has to do so that he can walk past his best friend without thinking about fucking him raw on the kitchen table so hard that they break the wooden legs it stands on. Granted, he probably will think about it anyway. Dean stopped glaring at the tiles. This isn’t working. He sighed. Okay. He’s going to fantasize about Castiel. And, the kitchen table. And, the trenchcoat falling from his thick, tanned bicep as he tilts his head back and succumbs to the passion of Dean’s frustrated thrusts. _Fine_. He’ll do it. But, he’s not going to be happy about it.

 

\-------------

 

When Dean finally made his way into the kitchen, a half hour had passed. Dean scurried to his room after the shower, head bowed in shame as he tried to forget what he just did. Then, he spent twenty seven minutes of that half hour figuring out what he was going to wear. Should he go in fully dressed? Denim, black tee, and a flannel? Or, maybe he should play the part of Recently Roused Dean. The casual, fresh from the shower, headed to breakfast, not completely _ready for the day_ version of himself. Or, maybe he should put on his tiny shorts. The ones Sam makes fun of because they’re tight against his butt and cut off way too high above the knee. Dean’s got an ass, he knows he does. And, he wants Castiel to see it. But, does he want to be obvious about it? That’s a question Dean can’t answer right now.

After wrestling with himself, throwing half of his clothes on his floor, trying on stuff he hasn’t worn in months that (in some places) don’t fit any more because black eyed!Dean actually worked his arms and glutes out a lot, and lying on his bed completely naked while yelling into a pillow that his life was over, Dean settled on an outfit. Sweatpants. Grey ones. And a band tee shirt he got when Sam and him stopped by a Pink Floyd tour two years ago. Dean pulled on two pairs of socks for the cold floor and that was it.

He had to go out there. His stomach was grumbling so hard, it sounded like a lawnmower in there, and Dean had to fix it. So, he strode to the kitchen shrouded in false pride. He walked into the library and casually glanced around. No Castiel. Okay. That’s weird. Usually he haunts the war room when Sam and Dean aren’t awake. Dean continued into the kitchen, steeling himself against the quickened heartbeats in his chest when he walked into the kitchen.

Lo and behold, there Castiel was. Sitting at the kitchen table and staring ahead of him with no expression on his face. Dean cocked his head to the side and said, “Hey, buddy. What’s going on in there?”

Castiel answered in a soft, slightly monotone way, “Nothing. I feel… nothing.”

“Hey, that’s great! You’re back.” Dean walked quickly over to Castiel with a grin, smile fading fast as he watched a single tear fall from Castiel’s eyelid, “Oh, whoa. Are you okay?”

Castiel blinked, raising his hand to catch the tear before it hit his jaw, “I don’t know. I feel empty. Hollow. Yet, like… a terrible thing. Like, all I do is fail. And hurt. I hurt everyone. Angels. Humans. You. Why am I here? Why am I alive? Why can’t I die?”

Dean started, “Hey, man, don’t start with that. You know you’re awesome, right?”

“Am I?” Castiel asked blandly, the sound of metal drawing Dean’s eye to the slide of the angel blade easing out of his sleeve.

Dean snatched the blade and held it to his chest, “Okay, buddy. I’m taking this away.”

Castiel breathed out, still staring at the salt shaker as another tear fell, “I just want to feel something. Worthy of anything. What’s wrong with me? I’ve never felt this way before. So… desolate. So, useless.”

Dean sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting close beside him, “Cas, that’s called depression. And, it’s serious. I think… I think maybe we should take you see someone.”

Castiel finally looked over at him, blue eyes clear like a void, “Who do you know that can fix an angel?”

Dean placed his hand on Castiel’s lap, “Hey, hey. Cas. You’re not broken. Just… I’m worried that the fallout of this curse is affecting your wiring. Anger, happiness, fear, all of those things are normal. But, depression is… it isn’t right. It isn’t supposed to happen to you. It’s a sickness and it sounds like your emotions are attacking you, fighting back after what's been happening to you. If so, that's really bad. Maybe we could call Crowley. He knows how angels tick.”

Castiel sighed, “So, that abomination of a demon can poke and prod me like a lab rat. Only to find nothing’s wrong. Just a… stupid angel. Cracked inside like a boat that won’t survive the ocean.”

Dean got an idea. It wasn’t the best idea, but it might help. Dean added, “I’m going to hide this chunk of metal from you, and you’re going to meet me out front in two minutes.”

“Are we going to ‘hang out’? I like spending time with you, Dean. And, I adore you always. But, right now, I really don’t feel like it.” Castiel complained.

Dean replied, “If you don’t meet me outside in two minutes, I’m going to put you in Enochian handcuffs and make you watch Billy Madison again.”

Castiel groaned, “But, I don’t agree with Adam Sandler’s brand of humor.”

Dean grinned as he hurried off to his room, “Which makes it the perfect punishment.”

It took Dean minutes to run into his door, stash the blade inside his porn collection in the kinky folder, and swap it out for an airtight bag full of something Dean pretends he doesn’t keep on him. He slid on his slippers and threw on a flannel before heading up the winding staircase and out of the bunker door to find himself alone outside of the bunker. Dean took a small breath, waiting for it.

The door opened suddenly, and Dean jerked a bit in surprise, “Whoa! Hey!”

A mop of tousled dark hair poked out from behind the door as Castiel shuffled out.

His shirt was more wrinkled than Dean had ever thought possible, untucked and hanging loose. Dean’s heart thumped hard in his chest. _You’re in love with Castiel. Castiel is in love with you._ _Don’t fuck this up with feelings. Help the poor bastard._ Dean gulped awkwardly and stepped aside to let Castiel out. The angel squinted into the daylight and made a noise of familiarity face still flushed and red somehow, “Oh. Hello, Dean. You’re faster than I expected.”

Dean’s mouth grew dry, “What happened to you? You look like you had a run in with a couple of strippers -- the good kind in Philly.”

“Sorry for my state of undress. I dropped coffee on my tie, so I put it in the bathroom sink. With my coat. And my jacket.” Castiel nodded, closing the door behind him.

Dean chuckled knowingly, “Well, that sounds like a lie.”

Castiel answered, “It is. What are we doing out here?”

“Something epic that you can’t tell Sam about.” Dean smirked as he pulled a long, thin white rolled cigarette out of the bag, “Don’t worry, about him seeing though. He’s pulling an Elle Woods at the Home Depot. He’ll be gone for hours.”

Castiel inspected it with an ever stern face, cocking his head to the side in that cute way he does, “It’s some sort of inhalant.”

Dean’s smile grew, “It’s pot. It’s good for you.”

Castiel said gently, “Why can’t Sam know about it?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Castiel, “Because technically, it’s drugs. And technically, it’s illegal. And technically, he gets real tight butthole about stuff like this. Let’s just keep this between us, alright?”

“Hmm…” Castiel made an indignant sound and took the cigarette with a huff, “...this is a plant. Where did you get this? You don’t garden.”

Dean shrugged, “I know. Nabbed it from Claire. Her prices are hella reasonable.”

Castiel blinked, “You bought _drugs_ from my vessel’s daughter? Dean. I know your morals lie on a unique spectrum, but this can’t be right.”

Dean glared, “Hey, man, I went through her bags sometime last year and we had a real heart to heart over it. You know, when you and Sam left me to babysit her?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, “I recall.”

Dean continued, “I tried to be mad at her for it, but one thing led to another and we ended up smoking a pipe and hitting up a mini golf course. The mature adult in me knew it was wrong at the time, but the demon in me couldn’t resist. Say what you want about the kid, but she has the hook up to some high grade shit.”

Castiel sighed, “Dean, she’s a child.”

Dean scoffed, “She’s a young entrepreneur. Excuse me for supporting a woman starting her own business. She’s got a website and everything. It’s legit. Plus, she delivers the weed via spellwork. It’s actually incredible. The girl’s got a bright future.”

Castiel hung his head and breathed out, “Jimmy is rolling in his grave, Dean. His daughter is a drug dealer. And, it’s all my fault.”

“Yeah, whatever. She Broke Bad and it’s fucking awesome.” Dean put the blunt in his mouth and lit it with a lighter from his pocket, breathing in the smoke a couple times until he got a decent pull, “Oh… yeah. Mmm hmm. There you go. That should perk you right up.”

Castiel put the white end in his mouth. Dean glanced down at his friend’s lips. They were chapped looking as always, and a comforting bright, bubblegum pink. Castiel latched onto it with confusion, breathing tepidly with it in. Dean started to smile as his friend tried to smoke the faded blunt. He was fucking adorable.

Dean pulled a lighter out of his jeans. It was one of his favorites. Steel grey with skull carvings all over it, and it flicked right on, the little flame out and proud as Dean opened it, “Hey, dude, you have to light it again. Sometimes it doesn’t stay lit. Especially at the beginning.”

Castiel took the blunt out of his mouth and asked, “Light what?”

Dean sighed, “The dutch.”

Castiel made a confused grumble as he gestured towards Dean’s lighter, “The whole thing?”

Dean shook his head, “No, just the tip. Just… let me do it. Open your mouth and put it in.” Dean clenched his jaw as he said those easily misconstrued words to his best friend. Who was in love with him. And who was turned on by him. Ah, jeez. Double entendres will ruin him. Dean held the lighter out to the orange end and it caught easily, “Now, suck it in when I tell you to and don’t stop until you feel it in your mouth… okay, now. Good, good. Give it a nice long suck… there we go. Now let it slide down your throat...”

Castiel took a breath and Dean closed the lighter, taking a few steps back to escape the smell. He watched as Castiel removed the cigarette from his lips, the end still smoking grey embers into the bright sky as a sense of wonderment washed over him, “It tastes like ember… and earth… and lemon... and comfort somehow. It’s warming up my vessel’s insides.”

Dean smiled, “How do you feel?”

Castiel took another long drag, “I feel… a bit calmer now than before.”

Dean blinked, “You tried your first blunt and didn’t cough once, man, you are a legend.”

Castiel took another drag, holding it between his fingers as he squinted and contemplated. When he let out the air, it was a billowing plume of smoke out of puckered lips. Castiel nodded and tried it again, a smile blossoming on his lips, “It’s trivial. Simple. But, it feels nice. The repetition. The attention paid to careful breathing. It’s almost like… a form of therapy. And, the drug. It is beginning to settle in my vessel’s lungs. I’m comforted by this.” Castiel took another puff, leaning his back against the door and flicking some ashes with a twist of his wrist as he rasped out, “It’s familiar too. My vessel remembers the taste, the smoke in its lungs. I’m feeling a bit more connected to James. Less othered. More unified. Almost as if we share something else now. I feel connected to Claire too. And, the earth.”

Dean watched as his friend casually puffed on, intent on finishing it. Castiel didn’t know that it was customary to pass it, and honestly, Dean didn’t want him to. He looked kinda hot like this. All leaned on the door of the bunker, clothes disheveled, hair a mess, joint burning away in his fingers. He almost looked human. Almost. His eyes were too focused. His feet stayed still. He never fidgeted, even now. For what? He never felt uncomfortable in a position. He’s an angel. Smoking a blunt. Fuck kinda. It’s definitely hot.

As Dean caught himself thinking this, he realized he’d thought it about before. A bunch of times. Too many times. Sometimes during a hunt, when he really, really shouldn’t be thinking it. He smiled at Castiel and asked, “You think Jimmy was a smoker?”

Castiel nodded, “I know he was. I smelled it on him the moment we met. He was hiding it from his wife. He told her he’d quit.” Castiel gestured with the jazz cigarette, “I think this is actually affecting me.”

Dean smirked, “This is actually getting you high?”

Castiel shook his head as he took a drag and blew it out softly, “I don’t know. I feel like I’m going to laugh, but I don’t want to. I’m suppressing it. I still feel that emptiness. But… it’s like I’m forgetting it. It’s a part of me, there in the background and broken still. Like my wings. But, I can’t see it or feel it completely right now… I’m finding it hard to dwell on... actually, I'm finding it hard to dwell on anything...”

Dean took another blunt out of the bag before sealing it up and shoving it into his pocket, lighting one for himself, “Damn, dude. I need to catch up to _you_.”

Castiel looked over at Dean with slightly glazed over eyes, “Do you want some of mine?”

Dean shook his head, puffing on his own, “Nah, man. I had this one rolled up too. You’re good.”

Castiel started to smile, “It is so beautiful outside, Dean. The sky is clear. The ground is fresh. The blades of grass brush across the wind like the gentle breaths of a newborn. The earth is so divine. A masterpiece painted by the most delicate of artists.”

Dean grinned broadly after a cough, “Yeah, man. You’re definitely high.”

Castiel shook his head, “I’m not sure.”

Dean took two more puffs, feeling the world grow softer and his spirits raise on a gentle incline as he spoke in a tight voice, “Cas?”

Castiel answered, “Yes, Dean?”

Dean smiled gently, “What’s it like to be able to fly?”

Castiel nodded, “It’s not flying in the way you’d imagine. My wings don’t carry me like a bird’s would. When they beat, they push me either forward or back in space and time. It’s brief. Simple. Not fun, per se, but a mode of transportation without a scenic route. Like taking the subway, but quickly and without the scent of urine wafting in the air.”

Dean pressed his blunt to his mouth, “That’s fucking lame.”

Castiel took a long drag of his blunt, gazing over at Dean, “Your soul is the single most gorgeous thing in Creation. I’m glad we took the Darkness out of it. It didn’t belong there.”

Dean sighed, “Yeah, but now it’s out and the world’s gonna die bloody because of it.”

Castiel shrugged as he blew out some dank air, “I’m not so sure about that. I believe in you and Sam. We’ll figure this out together. As a team.”

Dean smiled at his best friend, “Hearing that made me feel better.”

Castiel stared out into the distance with a small smirk, “Happy to be of assistance.”

Dean said simply, “I like you, Cas.” And, didn’t feel an ounce of regret.

Castiel nodded, “I know, Dean. I share your sentiment.”

Dean took another hit and blew it out, eyes closing a bit as he asked, “How awesome would it be if we just ran the fuck off? Like we snagged Dorothy's motorcycle and hit the dirt and changed our identities and became peanut farmers in North Carolina or something? Let Sam deal with the Darkness And if he screws it up and the world goes to shit, we'll be living it up in some rural paradise, so we won't even care.”

Castiel raised his eyebrow in confusion, "You would enjoy that? Leaving hunting behind to become a peanut farmer? With me?"

"Why not? Open fields. Small problems. Really great food. We could finally breathe air that doesn't smell like gasoline. We could walk barefoot in the grass just to feel the earth under our feet. And we can have a home -- a real home -- where we can do what we want, act how we want, shave when we want. No more stupid rules. No more suits. No more lying. We'd just escape from everything that pisses us off. And, it would be peaceful for once in our fucking lives. And, well, it might just be the Kansas in me talking but..." Dean gazed over at him with a glint of mystery in his eye, "...you'd look good on a tractor."

Castiel started to grin, “I believe you’re high as well.”

Dean laughed, nudging his shoulder into Castiel’s bashfully.

Castiel added fondly, “That motion you did was quite cute.”

Dean blushed and ran his hand through his damp hair, “Don’t call me cute. I’m a grown man in my thirties who kills monsters for a living.”

Castiel replied, “You do realize telling me you’re in your thirties makes me feel like a creep standing outside of a preschool, right?”

Dean smirked, “Yeah, I get it. You’ve got a couple of years on me.”

Castiel shrugged, “I’m roughly seven thousand years old. That’s an extreme understatement.”

"I like to not think about that." Dean added, "...completely unrelated topic, what were the middle ages like?"

Taking a long puff of his blunt, Castiel noted, "Violent. Much unneeded bloodshed. Sexism killed many women. Slavery was an issue. Poor hygiene ended the lives of children. Speaking of poor hygiene, it smelled awful everywhere. Without plumbing, there were no showers. Baths were few and far between. And, people tossed their excrement out of their windows. It was... disturbing."

Shrugging, Dean replied, "Sorry you had to see that."

Castiel said simply, "It wasn't humanity's brightest era. Both figuratively and literally. They hadn't yet figured out modern electricity. I like it now. Even with a looming dark presence on the horizon and many societal injustices... now has you and Sam. And, of course, no one's throwing excrement out of their windows. I cannot tell you what a relief that is."

Dean smiled over at Castiel, "Have you ever been hit by a flying turd?"

Castiel shook his head, "No. I was among the watchers of the Earth, but I had a comfortable seat in Heaven. Much of the time, I wanted to intervene. I was punished for it every chance I spoke up. I hated to have to see such suffering."

Dean grinned, "What about, like a pedestrian or someone just walking by? Did they ever accidentally stroll into a drop zone?"

Castiel squinted, "You honestly want to know if some nameless person hundreds of years ago was unfortunate enough to have fecal matter thrown on their head? My answer to that question is actually important to you?"

Dean chuckled excitedly.

Castiel nodded, "Yes, Dean. Many people fell victim to the archaic waste practice."

Dean leaned against the door of the bunker, laughing heartily as he lifted his blunt to his lips for another drag, "That's fucking hilarious. How about the gladiators? And the ancient Greeks? And the Myans? And the Pharoahs?"

"Gladiators? Too much murder.  Greeks? Too much incest. Myans? Too much fear of the unknown. Egyptians. Too much potential, yet wrought with soldiers that needed better weapons." Castiel replied blandly, "The Egyptians could have taken over the entire world and turned it into a prosperous golden kingdom, but European people have this unique way of -- as you would put it -- fucking shit up."

Dean grew somber, "I wish you were wrong."

Castiel added, "I've been alive for very long. I've seen many things, of that I'm sure. It makes things people deem important become very insignificant when you've experienced the grand scheme of all life has to offer. I sometimes feel as though I've lived, died, witness everything there is to feel. But, then I spend a minute or two around you and Sam, and I'm once again reminded how little I know. How much there is left for me to learn."

Dean took a puff, "Yeah, for an angel, you can be a bit of a doof sometimes."

Castiel smirked nudging Dean's shoulder with half lidded eyes, "Claire called me that once."

Dean replied, "Well, she was right. But, don't worry. Idiot looks cute on you."

Castiel added, "I don't know how many times I must remind you that this isn't my true face."

Dean rolled his eyes, "I don't give a fuck. The Castiel I know has insanely blue eyes and the strongest jawline in creation. And, if you disagree, you can blow me."

Castiel smiled gently.

Dean grumbled, "What?"

Castiel leaned closer, "I believe your jawline is stronger."

Dean shifted his shoulders uncomfortably, "Well, maybe if it wasn't hidden under a layer of blubber, wrinkles, and hair. I really gotta lay off the taquitos and line my beard up like you do. I'm starting to look like Grendel."

Castiel retorted, "Please don't compare yourself to Grendel. She was hideous beyond all reason. Those handsome features of yours could never hold an unattractive face. You were even gorgeous as a demon, and I once believed that to be impossible. Your mangled bones and charred skin and leathery wings were actually quite fetching. Maybe it's your youthful glow. It's sustained you for quite some time."

Dean sighed softly, finding himself dwelling on Castiel's word. Youthful. He's getting up there in age. To Castiel, it's not much, but Dean's almost forty. Hell five more years, and he'll start going grey like his father. He's putting on a tad bit of weight in his midsection too. It's only a matter of time before that gets out of control. If Dean knows anything, he knows he's not going to put himself on some sort of stupid rabbit food diet like Sam's got just so he can look jacked for an extra ten years. Dean's already got lines on his face. They're only going to get deeper. His freckles will get darker. His kidneys will slow down. So will his metabolism. His prostate will enlarge. His skin will start to sag. His balls will start to hang low and his dick will stop working. His voice will get weak and gruff. His joints sure as hell have some sort of hidden agenda planned out for him in the near future, so there's that. Dean tried not to picture himself growing old. Sometimes he thinks he'd rather die sexy then slowly rot away into some sort of wrinkled lima bean. Dean felt himself ask, “So… when are you going to bounce?”

Castiel took another puff of his blunt, “I don’t follow?”

Dean said, “When are you going to look at me and see an old man? Someone you don’t want to ‘please’ anymore? When am I going to stop being heroic in your eyes?" Before Castiel could answer, Dean continued, "God, it's only a matter of time before I start needing a wheelchair just to get to the bathroom. Talk about pathetic."

"Dean--" Castiel started.

Dean cut him off, "When are you going to get sick of hovering over my aging shoulder and start following some new, hip righteous man with cool cases and cooler villains? When are you going to toss me out already?”

Castiel gave Dean a firm look, taking his wrist, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Dean. There is no other righteous man. Just you. And, when you age, I’ll keep you healthy. Even if a new hero comes of age, they will rise without me by their side. Because, I already have one. You. And, when you die, with your permission, I would like nothing more than to follow you into Heaven to care for and protect your soul there.”

Dean took a slow breath as he processed that information, “...whoa, dude. That’s kind of intense. You actually plan on sticking around until my Golden Girls years? To my deathbed? And after that too?”

Castiel nodded firmly, “With your permission.”

Dean started to pause and his eyes grew wide, “Commitment issues. My commitment issues. They’re starting to surface. Oh, great. Here comes abandonment. And, his good old sister codependency. She’s quite a bitch, that one.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side, “I sense your ambivalence.”

Dean asked, still worried about Castiel’s previous statement, “Huh?”

Castiel defined easily, “The state of experiencing many emotions at the same time. It sounds awful. Just one after the other has left me exhausted.”

“Look, man. I’m going to need us to take it slow.” Dean said with a soft wavery tone in his voice, “I know you’re really old--”

Castiel butted in, “Seven thousan--”

“Yes, Castiel, I know. Seven thousand years old.” Dean added, “And, I trust you, I do. I’ve just been going through… a Do I Like Boys inner battle or something. Sam calls it a sexuality crisis, but what does he know? And on top of that, the most serious relationship I’ve ever had in my life was Lisa and… well… she doesn’t remember who I am right now, so you see that can be confusing. I also dated this girl named Cassie. She was really cool. Until I came around to save her and then she screwed me and then dumped me, but she’s like unrealistically hot, so instead of being pissed about it I should have said ‘thank you’. And--”

Castiel added, “Dean, you’re rambling.”

Dean sighed, “Basically, I have feelings for you and I’m scared and I'm not gay."

Castiel nearly dropped his blunt at the sound of that, pausing slowly, "...you have feelings for me?"

Dean blushed and covered his face with his hand, "I mean... yeah, kinda. I just put the pieces together last night, it's a recent development. Do with it what you will. It's just... beyond all that other stuff I'm dealing with, what you talked about sounded a lot like some weird, intense supernatural marriage that I’m not 1000% on board with as of now because I have more issues than Good Housekeeping, so… yeah.”

"Marriage isn't exactly what I had in mind, but with you, well..." Castiel began to smile.

Dean complained, "Damnit, Cas. Don't start."

Castiel gazed up at the sky, “Marrying you would be--”

Dean groaned, “Oh, please. Don’t.”

Castiel finished with a dreamy grin as he looked into Dean’s eyes, “The most harmonious of unions. And, oh, Dean, I would just… I would be absolutely--”

Dean covered his blush with his hands and muffled out between his fingers, “Cas, I'm begging you.”

“Honored to join you in such a human tradition. With Sam’s permission of course.” Castiel noted.

Dean made a face, “You plan on asking for my hand? Are you serious?”

Castiel began to nod, lifting the cigarette to his lips, “Of course. It would only be right if I were to propose. Well, asking your father would be ideal, but seeing as he’s long dead, that might not be possible. Then again, I could check Heaven for him and ask there--”

Dean raised his palm up quickly, “Please, God, no. Don’t you dare. You’ll just piss him off. I can’t even imagine what he’d do if some dude angel burst into his paradise and asked him if it would be cool if he bent his firstborn son over for all eternity like some sort of--”

Castiel blinked unsteadily, “Why would I bend you over?”

“I’m not stoned enough to explain gay sex to you, Cas.” Dean muttered.

Castiel smirked, “I understand how it works. But, what does marriage have to do with penetrating you anally?”

Dean grumbled, “Literally everything. It’s the best part.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side in confusion, “Why wouldn’t your dad be alright with it then?”

“He was super homophobic. He dropped the ‘F’ bomb more times than I can count. Well, actually, I did count one day during a long road trip. He said it 19 times after Madonna came on the radio twice in a row. And once, a whopping 34 after he had to investigate a gay club for a case.” Dean sighed, blushing, “Don’t ever repeat this to anyone, but when I was like fourteen, I stole a Playgirl from a gas station and my dad found it in my duffle bag. He kicked my ass so hard, I couldn’t go to school for days because CPS would have legit separated Sam and me. No way he’d ever accept… someone like me doing something like that.”

Castiel replied, “I am a genderless being. This vessel just happens to have a penis. If it would put him at ease, I could occupy a female vessel when I ask.”

"That would almost be worse." Dean shuddered, “How about we don't talk about marriage since we’re not even dating yet. I mean, jeez, dude. Way to jump the gun.”

Castiel took another puff of the joint and added, “You were the one picturing me in a tuxedo and a veil for some reason. You can't blame me for pushing the subject.”

Dean complained loudly, “Could you please stop reading my mind? It’s so invasive.”

Castiel answered, “I’m not reading your mind. You project images and sounds sometimes when your emotions are strong. And I can sense your longing as well. So, if you really want something, especially something pertaining to me, it’s almost pushed from your head into mine.”

Dean shook his head, leaning against the bunker door, “That’s crazy and completely unfair. Why does that even happen?”

Castiel replied, “I’m an angel, Dean. One of the many reasons I exist is to be prayed to. If any human wishes my presence, I’m alerted.”

Dean blinked and said worriedly, “So, like every time I… wish for your presence? What does that entail?”

Castiel shrugged, “If you think of me in a moment as someone who could help you, if you wish to talk to me or see me, if you wish for me to be beside you, situations like that. You personally long for me more than I’ve ever been longed for in my entire life. I feel you tugging at me constantly. For example, I know when you wake because I’ll usually be left alone all night and then suddenly, I’ll hear your voice. You don’t often think of me when you dream. But, when you do, it’s deafening. Just constantly hearing Cas, Cas, Cas…”

Dean closed his eyes and turned away from Castiel, nursing his blunt like it would give him a way out as he asked, “Do you know what I’m dreaming about?”

Castiel shook his head, “No.  When I’m away from you, I can’t sense the imagery in your dream's projections. I just hear your voice calling out to me.”

Dean asked, “Do you ever get the urge to dream walk again to find out?”

Castiel smirked, “I’m an angel, Dean. I don’t feel curiosity like humans do. I know when you’re at rest and you’re not in danger. There’s no need to. Besides, you consider it invasive.”

Dean let out a huge sigh of relief.

Castiel added, “But, when I’m here in the bunker with you while you’re dreaming though, I do get vivid images. I mean… you can emote so powerfully when I’m close enough to sense it. The things you seem to want to do to me, you long for very much. But, you don’t ever act on it, so over the years I’ve learned to let it go. And, oh, when you’re masturbating, you pull at me so hard, my vessel is almost _dragged_ to you. It can be quite awkward. Especially when I’m in the kitchen with Sam and you’re begging for me just a few doors down the hall. It used to hurt, knowing you didn’t mean it.”

Dean’s eyes grew wide, “Wait, wait, wait. You know when I’m masturbating?”

Castiel nodded, taking a simple puff, “Oh, yes. This morning you were self satisfying pretty intently. You didn’t seem happy about it though. Usually, you love to imagine me bare and begging for you, but lately, there’s an air of uncomfortability with us. Like there’s something about me that bothers you.”

“You don’t both--” as Dean began to explain himself, the Impala roared up the hill. Dean jumped. That means Sam’s back. With the food. He started to smile widely, “Sam brought breakfast, oh, man. I’m so hungry right now. I could eat fries for days.”

The car parked by the door and Dean shoved his blunt into his back pocket, whispering at Castiel, “Hey, dude. Put that out and stash it.”

Castiel pressed the blunt against his jacket and stuffed it inside his big tan pocket as the Impala parked. The door cranked open and Sam stepped out with two bags full of warm diner food. Oh, yeah. Dean’s mouth was watering. He can smell the bacon and hash browns already. Sam waved from the car, “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

Dean shrugged, trying to act sober, “Nothing much.”

Sam asked as he closed and locked the door, “Why does Cas look like he’s been cast as the confused stepdad that walks in twenty minutes late into a soft core porn?”

Dean started to laugh, “That’s what I should have said!”

“Holy shit are you drunk at 10am. That’s your booze chuckle.” Sam commented and stashed the keys in his pocket and fixed the bags, heading over, stopping as he got closer and narrowing his eyes at Dean, “Oh, my God. Dean. Are you stoned?”

Dean shook his head, “I’m not stoned. I’ve never been stoned. And frankly, how… how can you be sure _you’re_ not stoned? Hmm?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “It smells like a fucking skunk out here. I know you’re going through it right now with your little midlife crisis, but drugs aren’t the answer. We’ll talk about this later. Cas, could you get the door?”

Castiel stared deeply at Sam, blinking slowly until he finally spoke, “It’s already here.”

Sam sighed, “...Dean, if Cas is high too, I swear to God.”

“Oh, you meant ‘open it’.” Castiel nodded gingerly, lifting his hand to mojo the door. The heavy metal swung open hard, nearly hitting Dean. Thankfully the hunter dodged out of the way, bent over at the knees howling with laughter.

Sam glared at him, “You gave _marijuana_ to an angel. What the fuck is wrong with you? He’s too powerful to be out of control. He could hurt someone.”

Dean made a face as he straightened up, “Ugh party pooper. Cas, smite Sam.”

Castiel began to laugh, “I won’t do that. Sam is my friend. Sam!”

Sam answered with irritation, “Yes, Cas?”

Castiel asked gently, “Would it be alright if I were to hypothetically marry your brother? I don’t have much in terms of a dowry, but I could definitely steal you a lot of money. Just name the bank.”

Sam swiveled his head around to meet Dean’s red eyes, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Do you mean to tell me you two are engaged?”

“No.” Dean shook his head, looking at Castiel and pausing, “Wait? Are we? I don’t remember if I said ‘yes’.”

Castiel let out a private smile, “You didn’t. Which is good. It’s customary to ask family before proposing.”

Sam blinked in solid discovery, “Holy shit, I’m the only sane person in this house…” before pushing past Castiel and rushing toward the stairs.

Dean pouted and reached his hands toward his brother, “Sammy! Sammy come back. You have the food.”

Castiel stared down the steps, watching Sam rush away, “He’s going to put it on the kitchen table before attempting and failing to place the locks on his bedroom door within the span of thirteen seconds.”

Dean paused, “...what did he pick up?”

Castiel leaned a bit into the bunker and sniffed, “Hmm… eggs, bacon, oatmeal, and sourdough toast with homefries, butter, and blackberry jam. Ugh. Jam. I find that unsettling.”

“Why can’t you just have the munchies like everybody else?” Dean rolled his eyes, pushing past Castiel much like his brother did, “I still can’t believe you have food preferences, you immortal little son of a--”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: weed does not cure depression. (but sativa is really good at generally lifting your spirits and keeping you zen) if you are suffering from depression, don't turn to drugs to solve your issue. please seek help. self medicating never works. trust me. ive tried it.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Time passed in a nice, floaty sort of way. Dean remembers chewing. A lot of chewing. But, swallowing was harder to do than before. But, he ate nonetheless. Halfway through breakfast, Dean grabbed Castiel from where he sat beside him in the kitchen and plugged in the projector in their dungeon. He found an old copy of Nosferatu, and he loaded his arms up with a heaping pile of blankets and pillows, and he curled up in them on the floor inside of the devil’s trap. Castiel tried to stand in the corner and Dean rolled his eyes at him until Castiel joined him on the floor. 

The movie was super cheesy, awful quality, and stupid to watch, but it was nice because Castiel was there with him. Castiel was also high, but he was as close to the Castiel Dean knows and loves as possible right now. He sat all stiff backed and stern faced, dissecting the movie with serious intent as he asked, “Is this what humans imagined vampires to be one hundred years ago?”

Dean nodded.

Castiel smiled, “It’s quite naive.”

And, maybe he was really high or whatever, but Dean decided to scoot close to Castiel and rest his head on his shoulder and -- whoa. His shoulders are so broad and strong. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and he pretended not to be smelling Castiel’s white shirt. Castiel’s chest moved with a chuckle as he spoke, “I find it funny when you pray for me when I’m already with you.”

Dean smiled against Castiel’s shirt, hiding his blushing face in his collar, “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Castiel placed a tentative hand on Dean’s knee, making Dean’s heart race as he rasped out in his ever cute grumble, “Pie, car grease, sunlight, and Lienenkugel Shandy.”

Dean asked, “What?”

Castiel replied, “That’s what I smell like. I think you’ve been trying to place it.”

Dean stated, “You’re right. I can smell all of those things individually. How… do you always smell so awesome?”

Castiel answered, “I’m an angel, Dean, I smell like Heaven. And, to humans, I smell like  _ their  _ Heaven. So, to Sam, I smell like a blueberry and kale yogurt smoothie and someone named Jessica. To Rowena, I smell like daisies, grass, and white wine. To Jody, I smell like her late son’s shampoo. It varies depending on the human.”

“That’s pretty damn cool, man.” Dean replied as Castiel started to squeeze his knee, wrenching out a broken, “Ah, what are you doing?”

Castiel stated quietly, “I don’t know. I suddenly felt possessive, and I feel myself gaining influence over the effects of the cannabis, so my self control is waning. Let me know if I do or say something that bothers you.”

Dean sighed, head dropping against Castiel’s shoulder, “The weed’s wearing off?”

Castiel rested his strong jaw against the top of Dean’s head, “Yes. I’m afraid, it is, my love.”

“You’re getting all girly and gross again. I kind of like it.” Dean smiled as he heard the words leave Castiel’s warm lips, “Tell Sam what I just said and I’ll fry your wings extra crispy, you copy?”

Castiel smirked, letting out a small chuckle, “Understood, darling.”

Dean pressed his face into Castiel’s shirt, the cool fabric feeling nice against his stubbled cheeks, “I get you’re feeling your feelings again, dude, but what’s with the pet names?”

Castiel spoke gently, “I’ve seen humans use them when they feel a sense of intimacy with one another. I wish to have that connection with you. Or, one where I can refer to you as something other than ‘Dean’, and through shared experiences and closeness, you find my words to hold the same meaning as your name.”

Dean mumbled into Castiel’s shoulder, “That’s called a term of endearment. And, even though you've never expressed wanting to do this before and it sounds hella weird coming out of your mouth, I… enjoy your use of them.”

Castiel asked simply, “Can I kiss you?”

“Wow! Where the hell did that come from?!” Dean blinked, “Uh… y… I mean… like… do you… should… maybe we, um… maybe…”

Castiel replied, “It’s okay to say ‘no’, Dean.”

He leaned over before he could  _ Dean _ his way out of it, reached around, and grabbed Castiel by the swell of his shoulder to press his lips against Castiel’s neck. His skin was warm, and scratchy, and soft. But, his jawline was so crisp. So, perfect as it moved against Dean’s cheekbone. Dean backed up suddenly, breaking his kiss with an embarrassingly red face, "Did you hate that? It was kind of sudden and in a weird place--"

Castiel blinked, eyes locked forward at the dungeon wall, "I certainly wasn't expecting you to kiss me there."

Dean's head dropped as he sighed, shaking his head, "I panicked."

Castiel's lip twitched up just slightly at the side, gone as quickly as it appeared, "It was nice. The kiss, not the panic. I've never been kissed on the neck before. It felt... intimate. And the skin there is very sensitive. If that's what you come up with under pressure, I wouldn't worry about disappointing me."

As Dean took in what Castiel had just said, the angel leaned over and pressed his lips to the skin under Dean's jaw. His lips were full and gentle on Dean's skin. He didn't quite do it like Dean did. He wasn't experienced in it, pressing several pecking kisses to Dean's throat. If it was anyone other than Cas, Dean would have asked them what the hell they were trying and failing to do to him. But, it was Castiel who was kissing his neck. Castiel's lips on his skin. Castiel's stubble brushing against his, setting his skin on fire both literally and figuratively. 

The angel pulled back a bit, blue eyes flicking up to Dean's green ones, "How was that?"

Dean tried to catch his breath, chest heaving as he looked down at Castiel with heavily lidded eyes, "I feel like a middle school kid fumbling around with a boy for the first time, trying to figure out what the fuck we're doing."

Castiel cocked his head to the side, "I'm confused."

 

Dean asked, "How do you think it's going?"

Castiel gave Dean a long look and his voice grew soft, "Well, I'm several millenia old, kissing a man I've loved for years, and he just compared me to a child."

Dean tried to explain, "I didn't mean it like that, Cas. I meant... what we're doing has the innocence and awkwardness of a first gay kiss. It's not negative, it's actually kind of hot. We're learning each other's bodies. It's... fun."

Castiel stated, "Can we do it again?"

Dean smirked, "You want to do it again?"

Castiel nodded simply, "Yes, Dean."

He wasted no time leaning back into Castiel's space, parting his lips a bit to lick and nibble confidently along his neck. Castiel murmured a gentle, “Oh...” causing his Adam’s apple to swell against Dean’s lips. His heart thumped in his chest. Castiel. He’s kissing Castiel’s stubbly throat. And Castiel is tilting his head back, “Dean, that feels… that feels exquisite. Don’t stop.” Fuck, Cas was into it. Dean spared a glance upwards at Castiel, and the angel’s mouth was open just so, eyes closed and focused on reveling in the fact that he’s finding pleasure in the feeling of Dean’s kiss against his skin. Dean moaned against Castiel’s neck. Not only is Castiel letting Dean ravish his throat in kisses, but he’s  _ loving  _ it. And, it’s awesome and crazy and hot and Castiel’s hands just appeared at the small of Dean’s back and Dean’s fingers just found their way to Castiel’s thick, dark hair. And just like that, Dean was nibbling and licking and kissing his moaning best friend’s warm, scratchy neck like his entire life led up to this moment on the floor of a dusty bunker room dungeon, embracing an angel in a devil’s trap while Nosferatu plays in the background.

And, then Castiel’s entire palm was latched tightly onto Dean’s crotch.

"Whoa! Hey!" Dean pushed at Castiel’s chest in surprise, his kiss breaking with a long gasping breath as he asked, “Why is your hand on my junk, dude?”

Castiel said calmly, “Because most of your fantasies involve this part of your body."

Dean sputtered, "Wh-wha-huh?"

Castiel added, "You beg me day in and day out to touch it, hold it, stroke it, kiss it, lick it, suck on it… and, now, we're being intimate and I can feel your arousal --  _ see _ . You’re reacting to what I just said about your genitals.”

Dean sighed, eyes rolling back in his head in pleasure at his words, “Cas, we’re barely even messing around. Let it go. And, please. Please. Don’t say the word genitals with such a straight face.”

Castiel tightened his grip on Dean's cock, not quite ready to give up, “But, Dean. Don’t you want me to bring you to orgasm?”

“No, Cas. Not right now.” Dean shook his head, closing his eyes, “I just… I just wanted to kiss ya. And maybe snuggle a bit.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side, “Wait, so you want to engage in foreplay without having sex?”

Dean shrugged, “I mean, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m having trouble understanding. I assumed kissing was a sexual act.” Castiel added in confusion, taking his hand off of Dean's pants.

Dean sighed, “It kind of is, but not really. It’s more about intimacy than getting off.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, “I don’t follow.”

Dean tilted his head back until it tapped against the metal shelving behind them, “Oh, my God. I’m going to have to explain second base to an angel.”

Castiel made a face, “What do American sports have to do with sex?”

Dean waved him off, “It’s a human thing, don’t worry about it. Look, Cas. Just…” Dean turned to his confused angel and shrugged, “Sometimes people just want to be close, you know? Touch each other to show affection and stuff. Especially after a nice talk. And I have… romantic  _ affection  _ for you, so I want to… well… fuck, this is awkward.”

Castiel added, “Should I remind you that you’re the one stalling?”

“I know, I’m being weird right now, but you’re not making it any easier!” Dean said harshly.

Castiel blinked, “How so?”

“You’re looking at me with those huge blue eyes like I have all the answers, Cas, I don’t have all the answers. Most of the time, I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing. Not everybody’s sexually confident, okay? Most of it is listening and paying attention and moaning when things don’t feel as incredible as you want your partner to think it does, man, just…” Dean let out a long breath, “Sex is hard to explain. It’s different every time. And, people don’t have as much sex as they say they do. Mostly, it’s just hooking up and kissing and touching and being close, and that’s okay too. That’s actually… that’s great!”

Castiel asked softly, “But, you often emote wanting me in sexual situations, so I just assumed…”

Dean chuckled darkly, “I haven’t had sex in over a year, man. I’m… pent up. My fantasies are just that. Fantasies. They’re not real life, and most of the things I think about, I don’t even really want to do. Like this morning, I assume you got some…  _ images _ from my time in the shower.”

Castiel nodded with a firm, “Yes, you wanted to ‘fuck me senseless’ half dressed on the kitchen table until it broke with the ‘force of our passionate lovemaking’.”

Dean replied, “I like that table. I don’t want to break it. I don’t want to sleep with you when your trench coat is still on. And I don’t ever want to have sex  _ that  _ vigorously because it’ll hurt like hell and neither of us is going to get anything out of it. When I dreamed of sleeping with you, I pictured us in a situation as hectic and crazy as I was feeling at the time. Yes, I want to have sex with you, but I want to take it slow. Shit, I  _ need  _ to take it slow. I really, really don’t want to mess this up. And, a part of me feels like jumping in bed with you the moment we tell each other how we feel… will do that somehow.”

Castiel nodded.

“I mean, you're not human. There's some stuff about sex that you still don't understand. And, me, I still have some shit I need to sort through mentally before I enter a relationship, because I'm so fucking worried that I’m ready for one.” Dean gazed into Castiel’s eyes firmly, “But, I really, really like you.” Dean placed his hand on top of Castiel’s, “And, I know you feel the same way. Yeah, I was scared at first, but shit, who wouldn’t be? With all of the stuff we’ve been through together. And with how close we are! I mean the shift in our relationship might cause some problems between us! And, you’re an angel that's wearing a man . I’ve never dated an angel or a man before, and you're both and it's like... what if I fuck up and get you flowers or something? What if we hold hands outside and people stare at us? What if something happens and you don’t love me anymore and you leave again and you don’t answer my prayers and ignore my calls and fly off to Heaven to be with your family and never ever come back to me--”

Castiel placed his other hand on top of Dean’s, sandwiching his fingers as he stated, “I would never do that.”

Dean muttered as his face reddened with a blush due to Castiel’s hands on him, “You can’t promise that… because you've done it _so many times_. And, it's like every time I need you -- really, really need you -- you bounce. And, what if... what if we do it, you know? What if we have sex? And, it's beautiful and hot and amazing and I wake up the next day and you're fucking gone? That would... that would break my... h...”

Castiel leaned over and kissed him. Right on the mouth. And, Dean’s eyes slipped closed at the gentle touch. His lips were warm and dry. He still tasted like cigarette smoke and spit and skin. And comfort. Dean wanted to wrap himself in Castiel. He felt so much safety, so much longing, so much finally. He feels Castiel’s kiss at long last, and it feels like the pieces in him that didn’t quite fit were being glued together into a warm, gooey, happy bundle of perfection. Dean raised his hand to cup Castiel’s roughly stubbled jaw, sliding it back to his neck to play in his hair and push him closer. Castiel pushed into Dean’s space, kissing at his hunter’s soft lips with a slightly harried caress.  Dean couldn’t help but imagine a soft future with the angel. Late nights curled up on the couch. Long hugs at the bunker door. Parking the car on the side of the road just to place a hand on his knee and nuzzle into his neck for a bit. The two of them lying in bed, spooning and talking. They were completely clothed, cuddling, tossing over a spare kiss every now and again. They'd still hunt together. Nothing had to change with that. Maybe Dean would throw in an ass slap every now and then mid-fight but other than that, they'd work just as well together.  _ Together _ . 

Castiel's lips were warm and tender, holding him as if Dean was precious China, breakable in his powerful hands. Castiel would be so gentle with him. He'd be so careful when they'd make love. He would slide off Dean’s clothing as if it were made of tissue paper and the hunter was the gift inside. He would be soft, running his big hands down Dean’s body as if it could shatter. Dean then pulled away. He’s getting ahead of himself. He needs to get back into his head, and Castiel’s rapturous kisses would not help him do that. Yet, as he separated from him, Castiel stared back at him with wide, blue eyes. Dean couldn’t stop the turn of his lips as it tugged up in a smile. They were wrapped around each other, arms curled into bear hugs, tight as a vice. Castiel's eyes and body said what his mouth couldn't. He wasn't going anywhere. 

They finally did it. They kissed. And, it was perfect. Well… it was mid conversation and disregarded everything they had just spoken about, but… wow. 

And, Castiel stared at him. And, stared at him. And, stared at him. He finally spoke out a shocked, “...Dean.”

Dean quickly grew self conscious, “What?”

Castiel asked, “That space in your bed? The right side of it? That’s for me?”

“It… uh… it kind of always has been.” Dean mumbled as a blush colored his skin, figuring he must have been emoting something crazy while they touched. 

Castiel cocked his head to the side in confusion, “But… you’ve slept like that for years.”

Dean gazed up into Castiel’s eyes, “I know.”

"Oh..." Castiel reached over and brushed his thumb over the sensitive skin underneath Dean’s lower eyelid, “Dean Winchester, I have been so deeply, madly in love with you. When I pulled your soul into my arms, it was truly the beginning of my Fall.”

Dean blinked, “So, the term falling in love… it’s…”

Castiel smiled a bit, “Quite literal. The phrase springs from a time when angels walked the Earth, met the humans they were sworn to protect, and were so overcome with love and devotion that they cast out their grace to become mortal and spend all of their days with them. They actually Fell in in the name of love. After those instances, we were told that Earth wasn’t our home and we were ordered to stay away from you. Father was losing his soldiers.”

Dean gave Castiel a wary look, “Wait, so when you Fell the first time…”

Castiel nodded gently, “It was because I believed in you. I disobeyed when I helped you with Lilith and Sam and Chuck. Shortly after, I rebelled and the Heavenly Host gave me the option to stay and keep my wings. And, I told them to ‘suck it’. If I had to choose between following Heaven and following you, I was willing to become mortal. They dragged me back to Heaven kicking and screaming. They told me it wasn’t up for debate. They tortured me, dug around in my head, saw my feelings for you, and deleted them. But, the moment we met again in that old warehouse, it destroyed me inside to tell you that I wouldn’t be of use to you. You looked in my eyes with such hurt, hurt that mirrored mine, and even though I didn't remember how, I had begun to Fall again. Then, came that moment in Chuck’s house with Raphael, and when I was rebuilt, my grace was fully intact. I was an angel again. But I Fell once more, for you. Even after you threatened to call Michael. Even when it looked like I would lose you forever. I drew that banishing sigil into my chest, unsure if I would live or die, all to give you the chance to say ‘no’ to Heaven. The Heavenly Host was made aware of my treasonous decision. I had killed five of my brothers for you all at once. And, my wings were forcibly ripped from my body. When I became human, they tried to drown me in a river in Louisiana. I nearly died. A sailor saved me. If it weren’t for that hospital, I probably never would have seen you again. But, even human, the moment I could stand, I fought for you. Then, Lucifer killed me, and I was rebuilt a second time. And, years passed, but everything I did, I did because I loved you. I took on the souls of Purgatory because I didn’t want Raphael to even have a shot at undoing your hard work. You were with Ben and Lisa. You had a family. You were at peace. I couldn’t break that--”

Dean sighed, “But, we could have helped--”

“You don’t know that.” Castiel said softly, “Michael was locked in the cage. Heaven had no use for you. Raphael would have killed you. He knew how I felt you. All of  _ Heaven  _ knew how I felt for you. I was ridiculed for it by his supporters. I was a joke; the idiot angel who Fell three times for a man that didn’t love him back. But, I fought. And fought. And fought. And made horrible decisions. For Earth, for humanity, so that you would have a home and loved ones to share it with. And, I swallowed those souls and they corrupted me, and even drunk with power, threatening to explode from the inside out, you spoke to me and talked me down the biggest ledge in Creation. I wanted nothing more than to be yours. To be loved by you, not feared. So, I gave up the power of a god to be with you. And, the Leviathan held me hostage, rode me to a river, and took my memories with them.”

Dean gritted his teeth together, “And, then you married some woman.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side, “The Leviathan didn’t only take my body, they took my mind. I didn’t know who I was. She found me, took me in, and when her neighbors started asking who I was to her, we told people we met online and eloped to make things easier. I cared for Daphne because she cared for me. But, seeing you again… I felt something I couldn’t explain. I knew when I left her, I wasn’t going back. And, I told her that before we got into your car. Daphne and I used to watch television together. She said it would help me figure out how to navigate the real world. I saw it constantly, but I never understood the human concept of love during my time as Emanuel. Not until I saw you again. I didn’t remember your face or your name or your voice, but I remembered what it felt like to want to give up everything for one person. What it felt like to do whatever it took to keep someone safe. I wanted to heal your brother more than anything. Beyond that, I just wanted to see your smile. 

Then, I was restored. And, I took Sam’s illnesses. And, regained control over my mind in Purgatory and saw things clearly for the first time in over a year. It was then, I knew I had to atone for my behavior against Heaven and Earth and you. But, you wouldn’t let me. Even after all I’ve done, I knew that you valued my life above your own. There was no way you’d allow me to stay in there, even though that was where I deserved to be. I felt your longing and I heard your prayers for eleven months straight. Even if just for a moment, you wanted me beside you. Not even for my strength, just to know that I was okay and to hear my voice and to see me looking back at you. I figured after some time that you would get sick of sticking around in that horrible place and leave without me. You had a way through Benny. But, you persisted. For me. I broke. I let my guard down. I had to see you. It had gotten so bad. You were crying for me. You thought I couldn’t hear you. It was driving me mad. Pure torture to feel how much you wanted me.”

Dean made a face as he blushed, “I wasn’t crying…”

Castiel smirked, “You sobbed yourself to sleep most nights. You’d taken my tie with you, held onto it before we entered Purgatory, thinking that killing Dick Roman would somehow make me better -- ready to be the angel I once was -- an angel that could wear it again. And, even though I was nowhere to be found, you  _ held onto it. _ You rubbed your face against it. You even attempted to smell me on it once. I remember. You told me you tried. And, when you couldn’t, you wept even harder.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Well… we had been through a lot together. And, I got you into that mess in Purgatory, it was my job to get you out.”

Castiel asked, “After slaughtering much of Heaven and taking many lives on Earth, even disfiguring your brother, you still deemed me worth saving. And, you wonder why they call you the Righteous Man.”

Dean burst out, “It wasn’t righteous, Castiel, it was selfish and reckless. I can't tell you how many times I bled and killed just for the privilege of seeing you safe.  I could have died down there and I didn't even care because I  _ loved  _ you!”

Castiel blinked slowly, “No. You didn’t. You never said that to me. You never even prayed it.”

Dean sighed, “It. Was. Implied.”

Castiel started to chuckle, “In that case, we’ve wasted so much time. Imagine how much hurt we would have saved ourselves had we been together before we’d left Purgatory. Naomi wouldn’t have had to pull me out, and she never would have had her hands on me. I would have gone willingly with you.”

“And, you would have told me the damage the Mark of Cain would have on me because we wouldn't have spent that time apart.” Dean added, “I would have at least had informed consent and wouldn’t have taken it on. We probably would have stopped chasing the first blade. Especially knowing what we do now about the damage it does.”

Castiel rested his head against the wall behind him, “The Darkness wouldn’t have escaped, and Rowena wouldn’t have been trapped trying to get the Mark off of you, so her spell on me wouldn’t have been cast.”

Dean glanced downward, “Charlie would still be alive.”

Castiel sighed, “But, we didn’t tell each other a thing, and this is where we are now.”

Dean started to chuckle darkly, “I don’t know anyone else who’s romantic frustration was so bad, they nearly broke a planet.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, “That’s almost funny.”

Dean glanced up into Castiel’s eyes and smile softly, “Yeah… in a dark Stephen King kind of way.”

Castiel took hold of Dean’s hand, “So, let’s do it now. Tell me all the things you’ve wanted to tell me. Before we wreck anything else.”

“This is going to be hard. And awkward.” Dean complained. “And, I’m not ready.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at his charge, “Dean. I’ve been in love with you for nine years. Your stubbornness is your worst trait, and it ‘gets on my nerves’. See, it’s not hard.”

Dean smirked, “Hey, aren't you’re feeling possessive over me? Say nice things, or I’ll run off and fuck the mailman.”

Castiel added, “You’ve been emoting the image of me kissing you in the backseat of the Impala for the past ten minutes. That’s highly unlikely.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Fine. I…  _ love you  _ or whatever. You leave a lot, and I can’t fucking stand it. Then, you make stupid decisions to help me and Sam. I also can’t fucking stand that. And, then you do this thing with your eyebrow when you’re listening real intently, and it makes the pants melt right off of my body. And, I need to permanently lend you Chapstick, because your lips are distracting enough as it is. When they’re dry, it’s impossible to pay attention to anything else. Also, what’s up with your voice, dude? It’s like sandpaper, and it sets my skin on fire. I swear, I have goosebumps every time you talk, and when you say my name, my mind goes places no man’s mind should ever go.”

Castiel asked, “Why did you panic when you realized I had feelings for you yesterday?”

Dean let out a frustrated chuckle, “Damn, you're going for the heavy hitters, huh, Cas?”

Castiel started patiently, “Dean.”

Dean complained, “I don’t want to… talk about it...”

Castiel sighed, clearly disappointed.

Dean added, “ _ Fine _ ! You’re my best friend! I don’t have any other best friends, okay? Just you! I call you all the time. You’re super cool, and you’re always there for me. And, I never even imagined for a second that you would feel anything but friendship for me. Shit, I didn’t even factor in my feelings for you. I pushed it back. I didn’t want to think about it. We were just so close, I didn’t want to fuck it up. And, then I notice that you feel this way too, and I don’t know how or why. I don’t know what you’re thinking or feeling or how long you’ve been thinking and feeling it, and I get real in my head about things like that. I just… I spin out. I didn’t know what I was to you. I didn’t know what you wanted from me. Hell, I didn’t even know if you felt love. I freaked. I thought that your feelings may have been romantic, but what if they weren’t like mine and you laughed at me or I wouldn’t be good enough or you would want me to do these wild, crazy, angel mating rituals or something.”

Castiel added, “It’s called a Celestial Grace Meld, but I wouldn’t ask you to engage in that act without full disclosure--”

Dean clapped his hands in exclamation, “I knew it! I knew you wanted to shove some of your grace in my soul or something fucked up like that.”

Castiel gave Dean a look of incredulousness, “I wouldn't  _ shove _ my grace anywhere. I'd be extremely gentle with you, Dean. Especially your first time.”

“Ew, come on. I'm not a blushing virgin, okay? I could take it.” Dean grumbled, “It’ll only be a second right? Like I close my eyes, think of Kansas, and it's over?”

Castiel shrugged, “Oh, no. It usually lasts a few minutes. Twenty tops. I’ve heard it can be very satisfying.”

“Twenty minutes?” Dean gasped, “Jesus, dude! I’m not letting you in my soul for twenty whole minutes. I’m adventurous in the sack, but shit, what do you take me for?”

Castiel replied, “Twenty minutes isn’t forever, Dean. You can handle that. Besides, it would have to last at least that long. An angel needs time to… well, achieve…”

Dean’s jaw dropped, “Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. Let me get this straight. You want to splooge around inside me until you get a grace-gasm?!”

“It’s called a wavelength nirvana. And despite your mockery, it's quite beautiful. No need to be crass about it, but, look. Dean.” Castiel shook his head, “I wouldn’t do that if you weren't comfortable with it.”

Dean waved his hands around, “Good, because it's off the table. It doesn't sound fun. At all. And there’s going to be no grace-gasming inside of me. None. Hard pass. Get that out of your head right now, alright? I’m not into whatever the hell that is. It’s probably going to be messy and take forever to clean up.”

“Okay, the Meld is not happening. I understand.” Castiel started. 

Dean butted in, “You're damn skippy.”

Castiel asked, “But, what if I slip just a little grace in? Just for a bit. To see what it feels like.”

Dean deadpanned, “Oh, fuck no. Don’t you dare try that with me. I’ve heard this before. Hell, I’ve  _ said  _ this before. No one ever means it.”

The door of the dungeon burst open and Sam’s loud voice called out, “Dean! Dean, are you in here?”

Before Dean could move, Sam noticed the noise and light coming from the projector and strolled into the room, “Hey, I can’t find our ancient rune inscription tool and -- “ Sam’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as he glanced down at the hunter and angel casually curled up on the floor together under a pile of pillows and blankets, “Ooh! What did I just walk in on?”

“Read the room, bitch. Use your context clues.” Dean rolled his eyes, "That degree's gotta be good for something."

Castiel let out a firm growl, shoulders growing tense as he lifted a pillow to cover Dean’s face, “No! Sam! Back away!”

Sam asked quickly, taking a step back, “Whoa, alright. Okay. I will. What’s going on?”

Castiel professed sternly, “You’re standing too close to my human. I can’t have you breathing all over him.”

Sam chuckled, “Dude, are you serious?”

Castiel growled again, narrowing his eyes at Sam.

Dean sighed from behind the pillow, “The weed wore off and now he’s feeling all possessive.” Dean turned to Castiel lowering his voice, “Come on, man, you were chill a second ago. What's up?”

Castiel pointed toward Sam, “He walked in. And now he's looking at you. And talking to you. And, you're all mine, so he should go back outside and leave us be.”

Sam folded his arms, “Cas, this is my house too.”

“And Dean is  _ my _ human, and you’re not allowed anywhere near him because he’s all mine and not yours!” Castiel grumbled out sternly, “Lest you touch him with your grubby hands and stain his precious clothing that is _mine too_ , oh, I’ll be damned. I brought him back to life! I pulled him from Hell! And, yet you claim to be so bold as to utter his name in any tone but pure reverence. You. Better. Check. Yourself.”

Sam cackled, leaning down over his knee to laugh out, “Did you just tell me to check myself?!”

“I learned the phrase from Claire, and my word still stands.” Castiel muttered, “How dare you question my loyalty to your brother. He was just about to bequeath upon my lips another, long, desperate, passionate kiss as I proclaimed my undying love for him.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, “ _ Another _ ?” 

Castiel added, “If you’re surprised that I have finally blessed my mouth with Dean’s, I’ll be the first to tell you that it was the single most sensual moment in all of Creation.”

Sam blinked, “Oh. My. God. You guys finally hooked up. I guess I've been waiting for you two to get it over with for so long that I psyched myself into thinking it would never happen, and I shouldn't be as shocked as I am right now.”

“Hooked up? Hooked up?” Castiel gave an indignant huff, “Our very beings melded into one. Our hearts collided. His soul curled into the warmth of my grace. I touched his body with the utmost of tenderness, and by my Father, I would do it again. His arms are mine and mine alone. His lips belong to me. His affection belongs to me. And, his love… will not be shared.”

Dean groaned, “Alright, Cas. You gotta cut it out.”

Castiel complained, “But, my love, I feel--”

“I know what you feel, but…” Dean pushed the pillow out of his face, knocking it to the ground before looking deeply into Castiel’s deep blue eyes, “You don't own me, okay? I'm not just one of your little toys.”

Sam blinked, “Did you just quote Lesley Gore?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “No, I don't think. But that's not the point. Cas. You want me. I know. And I… I… I  _ feelings _ . But we haven't had this talk yet. We’re not together. Baby. You gotta chill.”

The twist in Castiel’s features was heartbreaking. His eyes widened with sadness and his breath caught with pain, “You don't love me? But… you're mine? Dean. What are you saying?”

“No, no, no. Cas. I meant it like,” Dean spared a glance Sam’s way, mortified that he was even here to hear this. He sighed, “Look. I really, really like you. I'm not seeing anyone else. And I know you're not either. But… _belonging_ to each other… that's real serious, man. We've been friends for a long time. Our relationship… it's changing because of the stuff we feel for each other. I don't really know how to act around you or what to say yet. We need to give it time and take it slow so that we don't fuck it up and hurt each other. And by ‘we’ I mean me. And by ‘each other’ I mean you.”

Castiel placed his hand against the side of Dean’s face. It was warm and strong and solid. Dean leaned into it. The angel felt so right. Castiel spoke up, “You're emoting again. I can see what you want for us and it's as beautiful as you are. Goodness, I love you more than the grace that binds me together.”

It was so good to hear him say that. Dean felt himself swoon a bit as he answered softly, “Oh. Cas...”

Castiel let out a small smile, reaching over to play lightly with the fingers on Dean's left hand, “I don't think you’ll hurt me, Dean. I'm stronger than I look. But, if ‘taking it slow’ will make you feel better, I'll do it in spades.”

Dean smiled back, looping their fingers together, “Thanks for being so patient with me, sweetheart. Means the world.”

Sam whistled from the corner of the room, “Ooh? He's ‘ _ sweetheart’  _ now.”

Dean continued to smile, gazing lovingly into Castiel’s eyes, “Sam, if you don't shut up and get out of this dungeon, I’m going to punch you so hard in the face, you'll be shitting out your own thoughts.”

“Jeez, lover boy. Calm down with the threats.” Sam danced out of the room merrily, “Do you kiss Cas with that mouth?”

Dean turned to Sam as the door slammed shut, “You're fucking dead, Winchester.”

Castiel gazed at Dean’s lips, confessing, “I want to hold your hand like this when we leave the bunker so that everyone knows you’re mine.”

Dean bowed his head to hide his flushed cheeks, "...baby."

Castiel lifted his head back up with his index finger, “I want to leave bites along your neck and chest to broadcast to the world that you’re spoken for and being handled well.”

Dean gasped at his angel's intimate words, growing more bashful by the moment and biting his lip, “Oh, wow.”

“Ah, my love, let’s get married. Let’s get married right now. Right here in this dungeon. I never want you to belong to anyone else.” Castiel smirked, “I, Castiel, take you, Dean Winchester to be my--”

“Whoa, whoa. Honey.” Dean started to laugh against the warmth of Castiel’s hand on the side of his face, “What did I just say about slow?”

Castiel breathed out softly, “I’m sorry. Curse my transgressions against you. Do you still love me?”

Dean shrugged, looking away again as he started to confess, “I...well...I mean, yeah…”

Castiel asked with a gentle smile, “Can you say it again?”

“I love you, Cas.” Dean muttered, glancing back up at Castiel’s watery blue eyes.

A tear fell from his left eye as he squinted and nodded, “Oh, Dean! How I’ve been waiting! So long, years upon years with baited breath! My love for you! Requited! What is this human bliss I’ve spent my whole life missing?!”

Dean started to laugh lightly, “You gotta stop being so cute right now with the poetic crap, okay? My face is going to get all red and that’s not cool.”

Castiel’s breath caught for a moment as he blushed and looked away, hiding his face in his hand bashfully, “Oh, beloved... your skin is already colored so beautifully with blush.”

Sam called from outside of the door with an mirthful sing-songy voice, “Ooh, he just called you  _ beloved _ ?! Are you really blushing!? I can't tell from out here!”

Dean whipped his head around and yelled at the door, “Stop eavesdropping, Samantha! What is this, fourth grade?!”

Sam mocked back through the door, “Well, I don't know! Is your _sweetheart, honey, baby_ Cas still being ‘so cute’?”

Dean replied, “Sam, you have negative five seconds to shut the fuck up.”

“Wait, wait, Dean! Who am I?” Sam started to laugh before he could get it all out, “I…….. I love you, Cas!”

Dean growled, “I'm going to murder you.”

Sam started to sing loudly, "But, how can you kill me when you and Cas are all the way up in a tree? K-I-S-S-I-N--"

Dean yelled, "Finish that, and I'm putting you on life support for the sole purpose of taking you off of it."


End file.
